Harry Potter and the Orphan's Tale
by Mrs.Cipriano
Summary: Long ago, Lord Voldemort attempted to kill a baby but vanished instead, leaving a piece of himself living in the boy. After his parent's death Harry Potter lives with the Dursley's but they aren't sufficient in caring for him and he is sent to an orphanage. There are similarities between Harry and Voldemort, and with the influence of the dark lord inside him, they continue to grow.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Orphan's Tale

Long ago, Lord Voldemort attempted to kill a baby, but vanished instead, leaving a piece of himself living in the boy. Harry Potter was sent to live with his relatives, but the Dursley's were not sufficient in caring for him and he was sent to an orphanage. There are similarities between the two, and with the influence of the dark lord inside him, they continue to grow.

Since his entrance, he has cast three spells: a simple unlocking spell, and two killing curses.

The first had opened the door to the house, granting him access to the people within. They hadn't noticed his entrance until it was already too late.

The first killing curse was used on the male who died without a wand in hand and lay sprawled on the staircase. The Dark Lord precariously stepped over him and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

The woman who had fled upon his arrival was just ahead. She had foolishly thought her husband's sacrifice would grant her enough time to flee. Her thoughts were evidently wrong.

He approached her from behind while she stood leaning over a crib. Another killing curse was thrown at her back and her scream echoed through the house as she collapsed on the ground.

The Dark Lord was, in fact, happy.

Everything was going according to plan with no difficulties whatsoever. Even the atmosphere of the house seemed to darken with the deaths of its inhabitants.

Light streamed in through the window, full moon held high in the sky, directly onto the face of the child.

He was simply an innocent, exposed to the dangers of the world too early. But too early would he be removed from the world of danger.

The Dark Lord, making eye contact with the green eyed boy, raised his wand once more and prepared himself for the last death. His hand slipped into a hidden pocket of his cloak, finding a gold clip in the shape of a lion that once belonged to Godric Gryffindor.

The moon was at its peak, and he was ready to perform the last ceremony that would create his seventh. But fate would not have it.

He whispered the spell, and when the two words, "Avada Kedavra" left his mouth, magic happened. But not his own. The spell lit up the room and the child's green eyes glowed brightly.

The Dark Lord was thrown backwards and willowed away into a heap of dust, which floated towards the boy as he inhaled.

xxx

November 1, 1985

The Dursley's were a very proud family, priding themselves on their income, home and family. However, they were a very noisy sort of people, they could never keep out of their neighbors' businesses.

As a result, they are either eating at their neighbors' houses, or their neighbors are eating at theirs.

Petunia Dursley was a scrawny woman. Her arms and legs were like twigs with veins protruding to just below the skin. Her bony hips stuck out at awkward angles but didn't seem capable of bumping into anything as she pranced around a room. But her long neck resembled a peacock, which easily allowed her to poke her head over fences to eavesdrop on her neighbors for their gossip, and quite frankly her nose fit the appearance of the bird as well.

At the moment, Petunia wasn't peeking her head around at her neighbors, instead she was sitting politely in the dining room with her legs folded elegantly underneath the table, her hands crossed and, above all, her back ramrod straight.

Her attention was taken by a wretched young boy standing a little ways away in her kitchen. He was pouring pasta into a boiling pot of water to cook. She had been paying attention since the second he stepped into the kitchen in order to take her mind off her nerves.

That night, the owner of a company would be entering her home to make a deal with her husband. The contract would arguably be the greatest thing to happen to her husband's business, and she would not let anything ruin the night. She would, especially, make sure the boy in front of her does not ruin the coming night.

Her face twitched as she watched the boy let a single piece of pasta drop from the empty package onto the counter. She reined in her temper as he dutifully threw the dirtied noodle into the compost before returning to his work. Petunia would like nothing more than to throw him into his closet and continue the job properly herself, but she did not enjoy cooking and knew it would put her in a bad mood, so instead she continued to watch.

For the next twenty minutes Petunia observed the boy; he had cooked the pasta, melted a cheese sauce, then layered a pan with cheese and noodles, and set it inside the oven to be cooked. Through the procession of this, Petunia's face twitched multiple times at every clang and item dropped.

She let out a breath she had hardly been holding at the realization that he was done. He would not be needed for the rest of this evening as she would don an apron in front of her guests. Without being told to, the boy started on cleaning the dishes, and Petunia, realizing there was nothing left for him to mess up, got up to leave the room.

"When you have finished cleaning the dishes you dirtied, get outside and tend my garden." Petunia snapped.

She then left the room and headed up the stairs to prepare herself and look presentable for her guests.

xxx

Harry Potter was only 5 years old. He had been living with his aunt and uncle, who had so graciously accepted him into their home when his parents died in a car crash, for 4 years. Even though Harry might not have liked them, he didn't despise them, they were the only family he had left. They fed him, clothed him and sheltered him, what more could he ask for? Although Harry would admit, he could do without the beatings but he understood they only happened when he was at fault.

His cousin Dudley was the golden child. He never got hit because he was always on his best behavior, and Harry wished he could be more like Dudley. One day, when Harry had finished his chores early, he followed Dudley around for the rest of the evening and imitated everything he did. However he must've done something wrong because his uncle had beaten him and told him to stop acting like a freak. So Harry had returned to acting as himself and now tries to understand his mistakes when he is punished.

Thankfully, today had been a good day. Harry had only been swatted a couple times upside the head whenever he touched something he knows he not supposed to, like the table the blue vase sits on. He didn't even get hit when he dropped a raw noodle on the counter while cooking.

To keep up his streak of good behavior he had dutifully retrieved his shoes from the front hall closet and stepped outside the front door. Sitting down on the ground, and avoiding the nice chairs, he pulled on his small sneakers that Dudley had given him a year back. They were too tight on him, and often left him with blisters or red marks, but they were the only ones he had. Their age showed through the rips and tears along the sides of them. And his toes would soon be poking out of the worn tip.

Despite their current condition, Harry would not ask for a new pair, he did not want to seem rude or ungrateful. So he would remain content with the pair he had.

After standing up, he walked around the side of the house towards the back where he knew the garden would look the worst.

Upon his arrival in the backyard, Harry's suspicions were confirmed.

The large tree looming at the side of the yard had shed its leaves and they were scattered about the yard. Not to mention the few weeds that had decided to sprout up in the cool weather.

At the back of the yard was a small shed that Harry was used to entering despite it having multiple spider webs and dead bugs lying about. He retrieved a rake and got to work on the lawn. To Harry it seemed to take hours to complete with his feet throbbing in his shoes and the autumn wind biting at the back of his threadbare back.

When he had piled the leaves he went in search of a garbage bag to scoop them in. It didn't take long to find as he knew where they were since every Thursday he had to take the trash out. He twisted the opening of the bag and threw it up on his shoulders and made his way towards the garage. Due to his short height, the filled end of the bag bounced against his heels and the ground as he walked. Harry just hoped that it would not catch on anything and spill its contents.

His luck held true, and Harry was able to hoist the bag into a garbage bin and leave the garage.

He hurried to the shed once more with his feet aching at every step. With equipment in hand, he got to work on the weeds. Although there weren't many and it didn't take long, it was still hard work.

Stooping over the plants on his knees, he was able to rid himself on the pain in his ankles, but a new sort of pain arose. The exposure to a long time bending over caused the muscles in his back to cramp. And soon Harry realized that he much preferred the raking.

But he would not complain, instead he pushed himself through the work with thoughts on his daily meal afterwards.

With the thought of food, he managed to get the job done extremely quickly. It had seemed as though weeds would disappear before he even came close to some of them. It was like magic.

Harry wouldn't tell anyone of this, he always got in trouble when he said the M word.

With his work finished, he quickly put the tools away, dusted himself off and made his way to the front door.

He lightly pushed it open, leaving only enough room for him to squeeze through and minimize the cold air entering the house.

"There will be no funny business, no funny business at all. Do you hear me boy?"

"Yes sir." Harry answered his uncle who had been standing nearest the door in a suit and tie.

"We will be picking up our guests and driving by my building before coming here for dinner." Vernon said to his family, and pointing a finger at Harry, "Where will you be?"

Harry knew his answer, it was always the same, "I will be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist."

He slipped his shoes off and made to head up the stairs but was stopped. His uncle had grabbed him by the arm and hit the back of his head.

His uncle snarled at him, "Do not track dirt through my house."

Harry looked down at his feet and saw that he had unknowingly been doing just that. Fear started to sink into Harry's mind as he recognized his uncle's anger with the idea of his house being messy with guests around. His eyes quickly flickered between his uncle and the ground until he finally decided that he would immediately clean it up to reduce his punishment.

When he was closer to the ground he noticed something strange happening. The dirt was slowly disappearing, and within seconds was gone completely. It seemed as though it was never there.

Now Harry was terrified, he feared even looking up at his uncle, but he did so anyway.

His uncle's mouth was hanging open in a wide O, and his eyebrow were raised supremely high. A quick glance at Dudley and Petunia proved that they looked the same.

Vernon was the first to recover from the surprise and seized Harry.

"Look at the time! Vernon we do not want to be late picking them up!" Squeaked Petunia.

This had quite the effect on Vernon as he quickly marched Harry up the stairs to his room. He threw the door open and shoved Harry inside who bumped his head on the shelf within.

"Not a word from you." Vernon slammed the door shut and locked it with key hidden beneath his shirt.

Harry could hear his footsteps as he trudged down the stairs. As well as the front door opening and closing, then being locked.

It wasn't till he was certain that he was alone, that Harry finally let out his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry didn't mind being alone.

To be honest, he actually quite enjoyed it. He didn't have to do any chores, he didn't get yelled at, and he didn't get slapped. But most of all, he could think.

Given his current situation, he didn't mind thinking.

Being trapped in a small closet doesn't give you much else to do.

He pulled himself so he was sitting upright against one of the walls with his pillow behind his back. His hand came up to finger the small red mark forming on his forehead, willing the ache to go away. He kept his legs scrunched up flush against his chest so that he didn't have to worry about kicking the wall in front of him and his arms loosely wrapped around his legs hoping to instill heat throughout his body which had been stolen by the autumn weather.

Being a scrawny boy, he had enough space on either side of him, but he couldn't fully extend his legs in front of him before reaching the wall. A little ways above him was a shelf where he could store all of his belongings. Mainly he had all his clothes - both too big and threadbare, folded neatly. But he also had something hidden there, which he wouldn't risk taking out during the day.

Harry thought about everything; his life, his family, kindergarten, his room, magic, dragons and anything else that caught his attention. But his thoughts lingered on a 'what if' story, in which he would be rich and treated as a king. What a dream it would be.

The feel of wasting money on silly nothing's, lazing around all day without any chores, behaving anyway you want, but most of all: people who love you.

 _Click_.

His mom would be there. His daddy would be there. And Harry would be there too. They would live together in a giant house that resembled a castle. He would wake up every morning to the smell of bacon, eggs and biscuits, and eat with his parents at a table. Then they would play all day long together.

 _...of course….ha….life….beneficial…_

Then they would make lunch together, maybe sandwiches or soup. And eat it outside together where a warm breeze would flow by. Then they would play some more, Harry would even get to run around anywhere he pleased while his parents chased him. Every second would be spent happy and loved.

They would eat dinner later in the evening, Harry decided, because they would be having so much time they wouldn't notice the time or their hunger. It would be a feast in the evening - with chicken, and potatoes and-

Harry's stomach growled at the image of so much food in his head. He hadn't gotten his food that day- his apple was still wherever his aunt kept it during the day.

 _"Oh Vernon! You tell the funniest jokes I have ever heard!"_

The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house and Harry was once more reminded of the fact that his Aunt and Uncle had visitors.

According to Harry, they were quite loud, and very obnoxious. But it seemed that they were good company as their laughter caught on with the Dursleys and Harry could hear that everyone was having a good time. Everyone that is, except him.

But Harry was used to it. Bad boys shouldn't have fun, they needed to be taught to behave. Which is precisely why Harry was in his room and Dudley was downstairs.

Harry's stomach growled again and his thoughts went back to his forgotten fruit.

He rubbed his stomach in an attempt to ward off the hunger, but instead winced in pain. He rolled up his shirt and saw his skin was still a purplish color from the day before when he had been shoved into the armrest of the couch.

Now with pain in his mind, Harry let his hands trail along his body, massaging anything that hurt, and more often than not, wincing at the contact his hands made with his frail body.

He started at his neck, where fingerprints were etched in red. His own fingers layered themselves onto them and softly rubbed. He continued till warmth had spread from his hands to his neck. Travelling downwards to the ache in his lower back from bending over the garden, Harry couldn't help but be happy that he had chosen to lean against his pillow. The feel of his warm hands on his back was so soothing, Harry could feel all of his muscles relaxing, letting him sit more comfortably.

His hands skimmed past his waist where he knew he had swollen welts all the way down to where his pelvis jutted out. His thighs weren't too bad, they were only cold, but his knees were pretty bad. His knee caps were multicolored bruises all in different stages of healing. Most were due to long hours of kneeling he was subject to while cleaning or gardening, others were from the countless times he was thrown onto his knees. The shins on one's legs don't normally retrieve much damage, but Harry's did: for as long as he could remember Dudley would give him a swift kick, but ever since school started, it was Dudley _and his friends_ who would give him a swift kick before running off.

In Harry's opinion, his feet were the worst off. Around the entire circumference of both feet, was a disarray of blisters, old and new. All from the shoes he was subject to wear while out of the house. Harry realized some of them had even popped while he had worn them that day. His hands pressed into his feet, feeling like pins and needles. His hands touching his heels and the sides of his outer toes he realized, by the wet feel, that they were the site of popped blisters. There was even still some dirt caked along his feet that had gotten into his shoes and attached itself to his sockless feet.

He dusted the dirt off his feet and swept it into the far corner of his room that was just out of arm's reach, where a small pile had already been accumulating. Some dirt was probably wedged into his blisters and would need a good, and painful, scrubbing later that night when he got his weekly cold shower.

His hands, finished with their job of soothing his aches, wrapped themselves once more around his legs and started fingering the holes in his shirt. At the thought of his scheduled shower, his mind drifted back to his missed food. Oh how hungry he was. His stomach was letting off a stream of growls that could no longer be contained.

Harry's lonely imagination ran wild with thoughts of his apple. He knew he would have to wait until after the guests left before Petunia would give it to him, but it was still wishful thinking. To be able to bite into his cool juicy apple. Have the liquid running down his chin and his fingers being sticky, and being able to lick at both. The crunch of apple in his teeth as he savored the flavor.

His stomach sounded a sickly growl that resounded in his small room.

Harry's hunger had reached its peak, and he could take no more.

Before he could wimp out, Harry raised himself up to his feet, telling himself that he would be quick, he would be quiet, he will be back within a minute and no one will know any better. The Dursley's and their guests would go on none the wiser, and Harry's stomach will be satisfied.

Harry's feet stung as they pressed into the ground, but he didn't mind. His small hands reached up as far as they could along the door where a handle should be. However he couldn't find one, it was as though the door was only to open from the outside.

Before he could feel any loss of hope, the door silently swung open a crack. He gazed upwards along the outside of the door where the latch on the lock appeared to be open. Cautiously, Harry lightly pushed the door open as little as required to reduce any chances of it squeaking. His lithe body slid out through the opening and he was in the hallway.

Like his bedroom, the hallway was hardwood and cold beneath his feet. It seemed to stretch out infinitely in both directions - towards the staircase and towards his family's bedrooms.

He tiptoed down one way of the hall creeping his way towards the stairs. Upon his arrival, he perched on the edge of the top stair and scooted down the stairs one by one, holding his breath every time he put weight on the stairs for fear of making a sound.

Luck was on his side and he was able to successfully shuffle his way down the stairs without being heard.

He momentarily paused at the bottom near the door where many fancy jackets were hung upon a coat rack. More laughter vibrated through the floorboards from the family room to where Harry stood.

The smell of the pasta he had made earlier that day, reached him, and Harry feared when his stomach growled that they might've heard.

But that was not the case.

Harry was able to continue his journey to the kitchen that he knew was _always_ stocked with food.

The difficult part arrived, where he must continue down the hallway past the doorway into the family room where Harry knew everyone would be.

Harry crouched down onto his aching knees and peaked around the corner. Seeing that everyone was preoccupied with another joke Vernon was telling, he quickly crawled across the ground and into the safe zone where he wouldn't be visible.

Confident that the difficulties were behind him, Harry raised himself to his feet and stepped into the kitchen.

 _Bingo._

The pasta was still in the oven, and no one was in his sight.

He continued around the island counter top towards the fridge, where he knew his fruit would be. He yanked on the handle with just enough strength to get the door open and bent over to pull open a drawer.

Contained within were apples redder than Harry had ever imagined.

His tiny hands picked out the biggest one he could find and set it onto the ground.

He pushed the drawer closed, and the door of the fridge followed suit.

Harry had never been allowed to eat anywhere other than in the kitchen, so he plopped himself down on the ground and leaned against the island where he was obscured from view.

The red apple was spotless, but Harry knew better and quickly rubbed it against his oversized shirt to clean it. Selfishly and hungry, Harry took the most ravenous bite he had ever had of his apple. He greedily chewed on his piece and swallowed it.

He leaned forward to steal another bite but it seemed his luck had run out.

The timer on the oven rang, alerting his Aunt Petunia to the food. She entered the room to one side of Harry and made her way around the island.

Harry paled when she caught sight of him munching on the apple. He watched on as she furiously pulled the pasta out of the oven before turning to him once more.

She pulled him to his feet and ripped the apple out of his hand and dropped it into the trash. Harry was saddened watching his meal be thrown away when he had hardly started.

His sadness turned to fear as Petunia pulled him away from the kitchen and down the hallway. They stopped at the doorway to the family room and she kept him out of view.

"Dudley dear, would you care to escort our guests to the dining room? I'm afraid I need to use the loo before I can finish serving dinner."

Harry could hear as his cousin Dudley asked for everyone to get to their feet and follow him out another door.

Being sure that they were all gone, Petunia frantically pulled him up the stairs and towards his closet.

Seeing the door already open, the way Harry had left it, she stepped around it and tossed Harry in.

"After dinner our guests will be leaving, I will tell Vernon of this, and he will come up here to deal with you. In the meantime you are to do _nothing_. Am I understood?"

He nodded his head and opened his mouth, "Yes, m'a-"

"Do not say a word," She interrupted him, "You are not to make a sound."

With that she spun on her foot, closed the door and set the lock.

Harry was hungry and trapped once more. But this time he would be sitting in fear of his punishment rather than in anticipation of his dinner.

xxx

It wasn't long before the guests left, only around half an hour as they had already signed the contract and only needed to eat.

So when the house's door closed with a _click_ Harry started to feel nauseous at what he knew was coming.

A few minutes later, probably after Petunia told Vernon about what had happened, Harry could hear heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. They continued to march along the hallway and stopped just outside his small room.

There wasn't the usual fumbling with the lock as it was still unlocked from his escape, and the door slid open.

Harry was pulled out of his room by his uncle's rough hands. He didn't see it coming and as a result didn't brace himself for the backhand that came crashing into his face.

His entire body spun from the force of the blow and Harry fell back into a wall. His feet slid out from beneath him and he collapsed on the ground.

" _What_ is the meaning of this?" His uncle snarled at him through clenched teeth.

Harry still in shock of the blow, lifted his hand to his stinging cheek and when he pulled back, noticed it was coated in a little blood.

"Answer me Boy!" His uncle yelled.

Harry mumbled his answer in fear, already bracing for the next impact, "I didn't get my apple, and I was getting hungry."

His uncle's hand came down again on him, "That does not give you any right to steal from me!"

Another fist pummeled into his stomach, "You don't learn, you Freak!"

Harry whimpered both in fear and in pain as his uncle used the F word. It was always a signal that he would be getting an extremely bad beating.

His red faced uncle did not disappoint, and fist after fist and foot after foot found a path towards Harry's body.

It didn't stop until he was nearing unconsciousness and his uncle pulled him up and threw him into his closet. Harry felt his head collide with the shelf harder than it had earlier that day.

"No meals for you for a week." His uncle called while he slammed the door shut and locked it once more.

Everything hurt. Harry never imagined his uncle to act like this if he were seen eating his apple.

With that lodged into his head, Harry would have to continue with his hunger.

The ground seemed extremely cold beneath him, it brought both pain and relief to him. He pulled his pillow towards himself so that he may lay his head on the soft surface.

Above Harry was his shelf. He painfully got up onto his knees to peek above it. He reached his arm above him into his clothes. In the midst of his few clothes he found his treasure: a small stuffed brown bear with only a single button eye.

He often curled up around the bear at night and hugged it to his chest while he cried. The bear was his comfort at times like this.

And so, spending his night like he often would, the little brown bear was squeezed against his chest and he bowed his head while tears silently streamed from his eyes.

Harry continued crying until exhaustion took hold of him and he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Harry was in for a rude awakening.

His entire body was sore and he hurt in places he never had before. He even had some irritating itches where some blood had dried onto his skin. His bones were stiff from being curled in a ball all night in his cramped room.

Still grasped in his hands, was his bear, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little bit better knowing that his bear would always be there for him. Gazing at his bear, Harry's mind fully awakened from its haziness and he realized that if he didn't hide his bear, he would be caught with it.

No matter how much Harry disliked being away from his bear, he knew he would regret it if it was taken away. So begrudgingly, Harry achingly got up onto his knees and gave his bear a quick squeeze of a hug before burrowing him into his pathetic pile of clothes.

He was able to easily lie back down knowing that his bear would be safe in his absence, and he relinquished in the extra few moments of peace he had in his exhaustion.

But nothing good ever lasts forever.

The lock on his door starting to jingle and Harry was raised from his peaceful stupor. His aunt was standing in front of him and she did not look impressed in the early hours.

"Get up," she commanded.

Harry did exactly as he was told and cried out with every movement he encountered along the way.

Once standing, his aunt motioned for him to step out and follow her. She made her way daintily through the hallway, with Harry following close behind, towards another door not too far away.

She opened it in front of him and let him pass through, "You have ten minutes, now clean up yourself."

He stepped into the washroom that seemed exclusively large compared to his tiny bedroom and jumped when the door closed behind him. He listened as Petunia's footsteps got quieter and quieter as she left him there.

Ignoring the pain that flared in his body with every movement, Harry got to work. His clothes peeled away in a not so silent way that made Harry nauseous. Dropping them on the ground he recognized the reddish brown color of dried blood in some areas. He left them on the tile floor where he could easily mop up any mess rather than the mat where stains would stick.

Harry didn't worry about his eyes catching his reflection in the mirror, he was still short enough that only his face was visible in the mirror over the sink.

He held onto the edge of the bathtub while he painfully swung each leg over the edge. He pulled the curtain shut above him being sure to close it completely to prevent any water from escaping.

The water dial was a spin one, where it spun from off, to cold water, to warm water. It was also a tight one, so it didn't go round very easily. But Harry didn't have any difficulties with it as he never had to turn it very far-he only ever gets to use cold water.

The feel of the cool water on his beck was both pleasant and unpleasant. Showers were rather soothing, with the water just streaming over oneself. But the cold water got into all his injuries, pushing up against his bruises or cleaning out his cuts. And looking down, Harry could see that it was washing some blood away too.

He stared at his feet for a couple seconds to watch the red drip down his body and down the drain. Then realizing he was still on a timer he got to work.

An orange bottle to his left advertised a grapefruit smelling shower gel which Harry poured a generous quantity of into his hand. He scrubbed all over his body, cleaning dirt from the day before and instilling a feeling of being clean. There were bubbles dripping down his body and he continued the routine of cleaning; his hands sought out a bottle of shampoo which washed away some strange things from within his bushy hair. Next was his face which he scrubbed with a little bit of the liquid soap and hissed out loud when it met with a small cut.

With that, he was completely clean. Now Harry could just relax in the spray of cold water. Closing his eyes he put his face under the spray and imagined it washing away his tears and fears.

For Harry, all good things come to an end. It seemed that in no time, his ten minutes were finished and Aunt Petunia was banging on his door once more.

With a reluctant sigh he turned off the water and opened the curtains. Harry grabbed a small towel from the hanger next to the bath and dried himself off as much as possible before stepping out.

He stepped over to the door and opened it enough for his aunt to pass him a clean set of his clothes before shutting the door once more.

He pulled on his fresh pair of clothes that used to belong to Dudley and towel dried his hair as much as possible.

Leaning over the counter top, he went and he brushed his teeth as quickly as possible, but still scrubbing around every tooth. He rinsed his mouth three times with water from the sink, swishing it around then spitting it out.

When he went to turn the tap off and cease the flow of water his eyes caught an unpleasant sight. Above the sink was a mirror, which Harry was tall enough to see only his head in. And what he saw he did not like.

His dark hair was a matted bush from his recent shower, and his green eyes glimmered as usual. But along his cheek he had a ridged gash from when his uncle had back handed him the night before.

It was not a pretty sight. It ran along from beside his ear to the chubbiest part of his cheek in a horizontal line. It had already scabbed over, but it had swelled up the tiniest bit in comparison to his other cheek. His fingers lightly trailed over it in horror as he realized that it would grace his face for the next while.

Harry didn't have much time to ponder over it as more banging on the door pulled him out of his reverie. There wasn't much of a mess but Harry still had to clean up his dirty clothes and towel so he could place them in the laundry hamper.

Once done, he hurriedly stepped out into the hallway and nearly bumped into his aunt. She was still standing outside of the washroom and had one hand raised to knock on the door. When it had opened and she caught sight of him, she merely spun and expected him to follow as she led him to the kitchen.

"You can start on breakfast." Were the few words she said to him.

At the command he eagerly jumped to work, pulling out two pans and many ingredients. He started with Petunia's meal, knowing that she was probably the only one awake at this hour.

The aroma of a single over easy egg with two pieces of toast covered in low fat margin filled his nose and he was reminded of the night before. Harry vowed to himself that he would never succumb to his hunger the way he had the night before and would simply ignore the growls.

However that was easier said than done. As he cooked and added different ingredients, new scents would tease his nose and combined with the beauty of the food, it made his mouth water.

Harry licked all around his teeth tasting toothpaste, hoping to rid himself of the idea of sneaking a piece. He was never more grateful to serve Petunia's breakfast than he was at that moment since the temptation would be out of his vision.

Harry suffered through the same experience when Uncle Vernon came down the stairs expecting his own omelet. Vernon was a bit easier to cook for as his eyes were always on Harry's back so he wouldn't dare sneak any.

Dudley came down not long after, looking as though he had just climbed out of the most marvelous dream.

He plopped himself down into his seat at the table while he awaited some eggs and bacon.

Vernon crossed the table and gave him a small peck on his cheek, "Well, I'm off. I will pick you up from school this afternoon."

He picked up his suitcase on his way out of the room and have Harry a pointed look. There was the sound of a _click_ signaling his exit.

That left Harry alone with Petunia and Dudley, and it wasn't long before Dudley's complaining began.

"Mummy! Mummy! Where's my breakfast!?"

"Oh darling it's coming, why don't you watch the tellie in the meantime?"

Petunia's consolation only lasted temporarily and once again Dudley was complaining.

"Mummy! I'm hungry!"

Every shout of Dudley's rang in Harry's ears and it was not a pleasant experience. As a result, Harry had never moved as fast as he did in that moment to sit a plate down in front of Dudley.

The sound of slurping and chewing started up behind Harry as his back was turned while he started cleaning up. He scrubbed vigorously at the dishes and set them in a drying rack.

He scampered out of Petunia's way as she started to pack a lunch for Dudley.

In no time Dudley's breakfast was consumed and his lunch made. The two boys headed towards the door to tie up their shoes and step outside.

They waited a moment while Petunia locked the door behind them.

They walked down the street towards their bus stop together, with Harry trailing slightly behind the pair.

They didn't have to wait long before the bus curved around the corner and its door opened in front of them.

Aunt Petunia embraced Dudley like she did every morning and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. "Bye my Duddykins, I will see you after school."

Dudley scampered up the stairs in front of Harry and he plopped down at the back of the bus with his friends.

Harry sat in the middle of the bus and could easily observe Dudley wiping his cheek and calling out 'gross' to his friends and the way he resentfully waved out the window towards his mum who was exaggeratedly waving.

A pang of sadness hit Harry deep in his heart when he thought about the way nobody would ever walk him to his bus stop, or kiss him goodbye.

It was a lonely world for Harry and these thoughts covered him with a haze that lasted through class and first recess.

He had successfully ignored all questions about the scratch on his cheek that day and he was raised from his stupor when his teacher sat down in the empty desk across from him. No one ever sat near him, Dudley had told them all he was a freak and now they avoided him like the plague.

"Harry why aren't you eating your snack?"

Harry's young mind has to come up a quick cover up as last time he told his teacher the truth, strange people had visited his home and Vernon was not impressed.

"I don't have it with me." Harry answered cryptically.

"Well why don't you go get it so that you may eat it? Snack time is snack time." Mrs. K had asked him the same couple of questions repetitively every day since he had first showed up snackless.

"My snack isn't here at school with me."

Mrs. K silently contemplated for a moment before answering, "Harry you need to remember to bring a snack with you. You won't be able to focus if you're hungry." His stomach growled embarrassingly loud as though to confirm her statement.

She stepped over to her desk momentarily before arriving back in front of him, "Here, you can eat one of my chewy bars."

"No." Harry denied her.

Harry had already decided that he would not accept any food from this lady, he could not risk being in debt to her.

"Harry-"

"No. I refuse. Now would you please leave me be?"

Looking mildly alarmed at his attitude, she straightened up to her full height and returned to her desk. It didn't escape Harry's notice that she had left the food on his desk, and Harry quickly pocketed it for later.

His teacher continued to give him strange looks, and a similar conversation occurred between the two at lunch time.

When it became apparent that Harry had won, he settled himself into silence while he watched everyone else eat and waited for the bell.

It didn't disappoint, and moments later Harry was out of the class and hurrying to the washroom.

He locked himself in a stall and sat himself on the toilet. With shaky hands he pulled out the granola bar and ripped open the packaging. Bite by bite he fit the bar into his mouth and chewed. He hardly breathed until the entire thing was finished.

He threw the wrapper in the toilet and flushed it to remove any evidence that he was there. He went out to the sink to wash his hands and even stuck his head under the tap to have a sip of water.

After blow drying his hands dry, Harry prepared himself to brave the cold autumn weather that was outside.

Before changing his mind, he marched outside in his oversized threadbare sweater and sweat pants, and tight shoes.

He hurried his way over to a small tree at the edge of the playground to avoid his cousin Dudley and his friends. He wasn't in the mood to be shoved around that day.

He pressed his back up against the tree to block the wind and huddled close.

He stayed like that for the next 45 minutes of recess, until the bell rang. When it did he rushed inside to the warmth of the school.

His class took a seat on a carpet where they sat together to learn their numbers. They were concentrated and had no breaks until their Afternoon snack came around.

His teacher never once approached Harry this time, simply stared at him from afar.

After snack time, when the school day was nearing the end, something strange happened.

"In light of some new circumstances, I will be watching over the class for the rest of the day." Said an elder woman as she entered the class. "My name is Ms. Bell and while your teacher is away we will be doing some coloring work."

The class could easily take part in this task and it continued till the end of the day. But before the bell could ring, Mrs. K appeared at their door, beckoning Harry to her.

Harry followed his teacher to the school's main office and sat politely in room with a big table surrounded by lots of chairs.

His principle stepped into the room, dressed in a nice pair of dress pants and a button down.

He took a seat across from Harry, "Hello Harry, do you know why you are here?"

"How do you mean?"

His face became troubled with Harry's four words that lacked a complete answer. He motioned to Mrs. K to close the door and the room settled uncomfortably.

"Mrs. K noticed that you didn't have a snack or lunch today, could you tell me why not?"

"I forgot them." Was Harry's simple answer, although he knew that his aunt had purposefully 'forgotten.'

His principle looked slightly doubtful at this and continued to pester, "You forgot them both?"

Harry wouldn't be fooled into saying anything cruel about his family, he was too smart for it. "Indeed. Don't students usually carry their lunch and snack in the same package?"

He had obvious logic, and his principle noticed it. Harry had said enough words, but no useful information. His principle seemed to realize this too.

"How did you get that cut?"

He changed his tactics, and this resulted in a blunt question that Harry couldn't lie to.

He remained silent while his principle stared expectantly at him for a few minutes.

But Harry's will would not give and he kept his mouth shut. He would not tell anyone of the treatment he was given at the Dursley's house, they were his only family.

"How did you get that cut?" His principle repeated.

Yet Harry still remained silent.

When it seemed an eternity had passed, but was merely a few minutes, his principal rose to his feet and left the room, Mrs. K following.

Minutes later the door opened once more.

"Hello Harry, I am Maddison Cartwright, you can just call me Maddy." She didn't wait for a reply, merely folded herself neatly into a chair without wrinkling her finely pressed suit. "We are in a bit of a predicament at the moment, and it involves you greatly. Would you answer a few simple questions for me?"

Harry neither denied nor confirmed her command-like question, instead she continued.

"Who do you live with?"

"My Aunt, Uncle and cousin."

"What do they do for a living?"

To Harry these seemed like easy and obvious questions, he didn't see any harm in answering them, they couldn't lead to anything bad.

"Uncle Vernon owns a drill company, he makes all these deals with other businesses and earns a whole bunch of money."

"What about your aunt?"

"Aunt Petunia stays at home, Vernon makes enough money that they can love and take care of Dudley." _but not me._ Harry silently added to his sentence.

"What else does Petunia do at home?"

"I don't know." And it wasn't a lie, Harry did all the housework, so what would Petunia have left to do.

"What do you think of your family?"

Harry took longer to answer this question, he didn't want to say anything bad about them. This might just be a test and if he said anything wrong he might get another beating.

He thought his words over and over, and determined they were ok, "Vernon is a big man and he always seems to get the job done. Aunt Petunia is a polite woman, her behavior is impeccable. And Dudley...well Dudley is Dudley I suppose. He's always on his best behavior and everyone _loves_ him. I guess that's why he gets to eat whatever he pleases."

Harry was proud of his big word use but Maddy seemed to ponder his response for a moment before asking another question, "What do you like to eat?"

Again, it seemed she had gone back to her easy questions.

"Whatever my Aunt or Uncle decides to give me."

That seemed to be enough for Maddy, as she got to her feet, "Thank you Harry, I believe that will be all at the moment. I will be in contact soon."

She seemed to wrench the door open and didn't pause while Mrs. K or Harry's principal stepped out of her way.

Harry couldn't help but think that he'd said something wrong. He started to feel anxious because if he did, he would surely be in trouble with his family that evening.

But Harry's thoughts were sidetracked by the smell of cheese, dough and grease. Mrs. K and his principal arrived in the room with a medium pizza which they placed in the middle of them on the table.

They opened the box and each grabbed a slice, it took a moment for Harry to realize that they were also offering him some. His small hand hesitantly reached out, glancing between the two for approval.

When the pizza slice was pulled towards himself, he hunched over it slightly scared someone would take it from him, and avidly chewed at it.

He was so hungry that he ate two entire slices and neither adult reprimanded him for it.

For the first time in a long while Harry was full.

When the two adults were done their own slices, they smiled at Harry and left him there.

Out of boredom, Harry counted to 100 and from 100 to zero. Then he stared at the clock for a while. He even tried to scratch a picture in the table with no progress.

Harry couldn't tell you exactly how long he sat there for, but minutes turned to hours. The only window in the room showed that outside was beginning to get darker and Harry was itching to get out of his chair.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry knew how to tell the time on an analog clock, and he thought that 7 o'clock was too late to still be at school.

It seemed his prayers to leave the place were answered, and the suit lady- Maddy came to collect him.

She motioned with her hand by bending her fingers inwards in a silent command of 'come,' which Harry easily obeyed.

She guided him through the giant maze they called a school, passing by teachers with a combination of relieved and saddened faces, to outside where it was lightly raining. They stopped underneath the school's overhanging which partially blocked them from the contemptuous weather. It only kept Harry dry- the cold wind still bit at him through his thin clothing.

Maddy did not seem to notice the effect the weather had on Harry. Even though the wind swept her hair around her face, she seemed to be rather unaffected by its presence.

A black car pulled up in front of them, the driver easing it so that its' side doors were slightly under the roof.

Maddy stepped onto the curb and towards the vehicle. She pulled open the back door of the vehicle and moved aside so that Harry could climb in.

Before he could move to his appropriate seat - the Dursley's always made him sit on the floor- Maddy had buckled up his seat belt and was telling the driver to go ahead.

Harry paid no mind to his surroundings as they drove, he decided that he couldn't care less. Instead he stroked the leather seats beneath him.

He didn't realize they had arrived until the vehicle stopped and the door was already open.

He trailed behind Maddy into a large building and through an elaborate amount of corridors until she opened one door for them. She briefly stepped into the room before exiting and leaving Harry alone.

The door shut with an ominous clang. He felt like he was being locked in solitary confinement and could've sworn he heard a bolt hit home in the doorknob.

Spying a window ledge with a cushioned seat, Harry headed that way. He planted himself down on top of the blue cushions and regarded the scratched white window panes. They might've been beautiful at a time, with light streaming through into the room, but after years of children sitting in the same spot as Harry they were now a pathetic sight.

Each scratch held its own story, of some kid who was removed from their home. Harry felt the urge to make his mark, and etch himself into the isolated world of kids.

He could feel the white wood pulling up underneath his nail and biting into his skin. He paid no mind to it and continued, letting his scratch reach horizontally along the bottom of the window.

Content that he had left his mark he settled down once more and gazed through the glass.

He could see across the lawn that another vehicle, similar to the one he had driven in, had pulled up. The tinted windows prevented any view of the people within and the back doors opened seemingly of their own accord as the passengers were not visible.

On either side of the vehicle a single foot stepped out, followed by another.

From Harry's point of view, he could see only the side closest to him. The single foot was pudgy, it seemed as though the foot was too fat for the shoe. The possibility that a shoe could contain that much volume seemed astounding. But Harry didn't care, especially when the second foot came out and he recognized the feet that had often pummeled into him. His Uncle Vernon stepped out of the vehicle still wearing his work clothes, along with Aunt Petunia on the other side.

The two of them strode forward alongside two beefy looking men. If it weren't for the severity of the situation their attempt to look prestige would have amused Harry. But their nerves were visible and everyone in the building knew the real reason they were here.

The window allowed a view only up until the main entrance, and when Harry's relatives reached that point, they disappeared from his view. He wondered where they might be going; if he hadn't been allowed to go home all day, surely they wouldn't let them into the same room.

His assumption was wrong, moments later both his relatives entered the very room Harry sat within. They didn't appear shocked when they caught sight of him, merely continued to glance around nervously.

They didn't have much of an interaction as the two were marched past Harry to another set of doors which Harry had failed to notice.

"Harry, this might be hard for you to understand, but you need to try."

Madeline spooked Harry with her sudden reappearance.

His reply was slightly stuttered as though he didn't fully comprehend her words, "I can do my best."

"Tonight, you are not going to be sleeping at your Aunt and Uncle's house." Harry made a move to interrupt, but Maddy continued, "You're going to spend the night with a couple of other children in the same situation as you. Do you understand? Harry?"

His young mind slowly caught up to the meaning of her words, "Not with the Dursleys...but with other kids? Is this like a sleepover? I've never been to one of those."

Her lips twitched as though she were fighting a smile that would've been tinged with sadness, "I suppose you could think of it like that. Now come along, it's time for you to say goodbye."

"Goodbye to who?"

"Your aunt and uncle of course, it's only polite."

Harry did as suggested since it were the polite thing to do, if he didn't he thought he might be beaten for being rude in public when he returned.

He prepped himself with a deep breath and summoned his courage to walk over to the door he had previously seen the Dursleys pass through. Without being told to he opened and passed through the door, using all the courage he had so that he wouldn't wimp out.

The sight before him wasn't quite what he expected. He took a brief moment to let the image sink in and let his overwhelming shock calm down.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia."

His family didn't even spare him a nod of acknowledgement. They continued to stare at the wall in front of them, one might even say that they did so in a sort of trance.

"Miss Madeline told me to come say goodbye to you...so um, bye."

Harry's eyes sought them out, searching for a shred of concern or approval that he hoped his family might have. However they still hadn't bat an eyelash in his general direction.

He was slightly depressed when he realized they _didn't care._ But he pushed it down and turned his back to them and followed Maddy once more.

He followed her through doorways and down corridors, into the rain and then the black vehicle once more.

"Harry, you should know that you might not be seeing your aunt and uncle for a little while."

Harry didn't answer, his down trodden eyes hidden beneath his hair gazed outside to the damping weather.

The sun had set already long ago and the streetlights were illuminating the city. As they drove they would momentarily light up the inside of the car and then darken once more. The car breezed through stoplights and past some stop signs, into a secluded area of houses.

The subdivision appeared friendly enough with outdoor lights at every door.

The car pulled into a house located near the end of the street, with only a few buildings next to it before a line of trees started.

When the car doors slammed shut, light filled the driveway as the door opened. A woman's figure was shadowed02 by the light, the outline of her lithe form appeared moving down the steps towards them.

"Madeline, I just got your message. Thank goodness one of the kids told me about it." Said the stranger.

Harry didn't fail to notice the mention of other children in the house and figured he would be having his sleepover at the building in front of him. The realization made his mind more aware of the condition of the house. It seemed like a proper house, not like the Dursley's where everything was so perfect, but not a rundown shack either. It was the perfect mix giving off the feel of a group of friendly people living within.

"Thanks for getting back to me within the day. It would've been difficult to find a place anywhere else, this case just got sprung on the service at the end of the day."

"Oh goodness me, that might've been a disaster. You know my house is open to the kids anytime they need it." She replied honestly.

"Harry this is Mrs. White, you're going to stay the night with her. I've already collected some of your clothes from Petunia and Vernon's house." Maddy spoke down to Harry, appearing ready to leave and continue with her life.

Seeing Maddy walking around the car, the driver released the trunk which popped open. She bent over and when she arose, in her hands was Harry's school backpack. Immediately he walked over and she helped him slip it over his shoulders.

"Come along, let's get inside before we freeze in the cold and rain." Mrs. White said, "Maddy you can come in for some tea as well."

The two of them followed Mrs. White into the house and Harry was glad when they pulled off their shoes on an entrance carpet. He was finally able to rid himself temporarily of his petite shoes.

He made note of the fact that all the scrubbing he put into them this morning had been of no use. Now, after a full day, his shoes had accumulated some dirt in them and rubbed against his sockless feet, effectively dirtying his wounds. It also appeared as though there were more and newer blisters from his feet being contained within for a longer period of time than usual.

He duly noticed that the carpet ended and shiny, spotless tile flooring began. Harry thought that surely his feet would track and then he would be in trouble.

So he was at a dilemma, did he continue through the house and get punished, or did he stay where he was and get yelled at for not following.

Harry made up his mind and before the two woman could get too far away, he called out to them, "Mrs. White? My feet are all dirty!"

They paused mid conversation that Harry didn't bother to follow, and retraced their steps to him. Mrs. White glanced down at his feet briefly, then his shoes and seemed to come to a conclusion. She opened a closet door and seemed to pull a new pair of socks at random.

"Here, you can wear these to keep your feet warm and the floors clean. After we get you settled in, we'll get you cleaned up as well."

He awkwardly received the new socks, not used to having things given to him, and sat on the ground to slip them on.

As soon as Harry's feet were beneath him once more, Mrs. White wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him tight against her side. Harry never would've thought that a fragile elder woman, with hair already turning white, could have such a strong grip. But they continued like that, her hold never once wavering, until they reached a kitchen where a kettle had already been boiling.

"Honey?" Mrs. White asked Maddy as she heaved the kettle from its place and poured the water into two teacups.

"Sugar, please." Was the correction that Maddy made.

Mrs. White placed the two teacups into small plates and carried them over to the counter where each of the women plunked themselves onto a stool. Their teaspoons clinked lightly along the cup edges as they stirred the liquid before landing on the plate.

Harry was at a loss at what to do while they raised their cups to their lips. Mrs. White didn't seem to have forgotten him as most adults do, instead she had pulled a jar across the counter to herself and lifted the lid off. She offered the open end to Harry, and with encouragement he stuck his hand into the unknown.

When he retrieved his hand, in it was a homemade chocolate chip cookie, one of many held within the cookie jar.

"Donovan!" Mrs. White yelled up a staircase, "Donovan! Come here!"

Although she was yelling, it didn't seem rude, it was more of a gentle calling to Donovan. She was nothing like his Aunt Petunia and Harry decided he liked this woman.

A heavy set of footsteps that were almost loud enough to make Harry flinch came trotting down the stairs. It seemed that Donovan was only a boy around 16. In Harry's opinion he looked like a nerd with his button down shirt and big glasses pushed high up his nose.

"Wassup?" He stuck his head around the entry way.

He took in Harry with a questioning gaze but didn't say anything.

"Donovan come here." Mrs. White repeated.

From the doorway he answered, "I am here."

Clearly agitated with Donovan's difficulty, Mrs. White emphasized her words, "Donovan, come _here."_

Getting the vibe that Mrs. White was not in the mood for games, Donovan exaggerated taking one step into the room.

" _Ok."_

"Harry, this is Donovan, one of my elder boys," Mrs White spoke to Harry. Then with a pointed look to Donovan, "He's going to show you around the house. Donovan?"

"Oh my- _what?"_ heexclaimed _._

 _"_ Entertain him for a while too, would you? Just while me and Maddy discuss." _Harry's existence_ is what Harry thought the end of the sentence was.

Knowing they had been dismissed, the two boys filed out of the room.

"This way Harry, I'll introduce you to the boys."

The two trudged up the stairs together, Donovan seeming like a giant compared to Harry's dwarfed, young height.

"You gonna eat that?" Donovan asked while he waited for Harry to catch up at the top of the stairs, "because I don't mind taking it off your hands."

Harry followed Donovan's gaze down to his hands where he saw he still held his cookie. Instead of handing it over, he took a huge bite and smiled in delight, while Donovan spun away unbothered by not gaining the sweet.

"Come on, this way."

They pulled to a stop at the first door on the left which easily swung open with a small amount of pressure.

Inside the room were two more boys who looked younger than Donovan. They didn't look up at their entrance, instead keeping their attention on the TV screen in front of them. They were shouting into microphones that sat atop their heads.

"Guys." Donovan called at them.

Their shouts of profanity and cheers of joy maxed out Donovan's voice and they took no notice.

"Guys!" He tried again.

"Guys!" He tried once more, his voice almost a yell.

When they didn't answer he walked over and pulled a plug from the wall. Immediately the screen, sounds and shouting stopped, the entire system was shut down.

"Boo!" One yelled in sync with the other complaining, " _awwwww."_

"Johnny, Jack this is Harry. Harry, the blonde one is Johnny and the donkey looking one is Jack."

" _Hey!_ " Called Jack at Donovan's crude description of himself, "I heard that!"

"You were _meant_ to."

"You say he's Harry?"

"Yeah boys, this is Harry, he's bunking the night with us."

"Oh sweet, new roomie." Bellowed Jack.

"Well little guy, looks like you're stuck with us, hope you're good at video games." Johnny told him happily.

"I don't know, I don't really play." Came Harry's response.

"Then get over here while I teach you." Jack said as he pulled Harry to their position and shoved a remote in his hands.

"Sorry boys, but it's bed time." Donovan said smartly.

Harry looked out the window, and although the rain was still coming down hard, he realized that it had unknowingly been getting extremely late.

"Here Harry, you get bottom bunk. And the bathroom's right across the hall for you to brush your teeth. Johnny will be in the bunk above you, and me and Jack will be in the ones on this side of the room."

Hurriedly, used to having only a few minutes in the washroom, Harry got in there, changed, brushed his teeth and exited.

He still wasn't too sure about if he was allowed to sleep on the bed.

"Boys! Why aren't you in bed?" Called Mrs. White as she came up the stairs.

No one answered and instead they all climbed into their beds, Harry being the last one into his.

"Goodnight boys." She said as she flicked the light off.

"Goodnight," was the chorus of replies she got as she closed the door, Harry's echoing along with them.

Harry stayed like that for what seemed like an hour. He looked forward at the bunk atop of him without really seeing, he could not shake the feeling that he was forgetting something and couldn't sleep without knowing.

Turning on his side he pulled his arms close to himself and realized what it was.

He hopped off his bed, all the while trying to make no noise and not succeeding. He could hear Donovan or Jack spinning on their bed to face him.

" _What are you doing?"_ Came the whispered request.

Harry simply didn't answer, instead grabbing the backpack Maddy had handed him. He tore open every pocket, flipped the bag upside down and shook it, but there was nothing for him to find.

" _Harry, get back in bed."_ He heard once more.

Dejectedly, he listened to the advice, but refused to close his eyes. Instead he could feel tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes and trailing down his face.

He crushed himself into a ball, holding his knees to his chest and squeezing into the corner of the uncomfortably soft bed.

His tears turned to sniffles, and soon he was sobbing and breathing heavily under the effort of crying. Whoever had called out to him before, finally realized that something was seriously wrong. They climbed out of their bed and over to Harry.

"What is it Harry?" Donovan asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Harry.

He got no answer and instead Harry flinched away and sobbed louder.

The other two boys in the room stirred, only becoming briefly aware of the situation.

As Harry's cries loudened, the house seemed to awaken. Jack and Johnny both jumped down from their top bunks and made their way to Harry's.

"Harry? It's alright, what's the matter?"

Their condolences only irritated him further and his hysteria grew.

"Go get Mrs. White." Donovan whispered to the other two.

Relieved to get away from a crying child, both boys went in search of the woman.

She appeared only moments later in a light blue bathrobe and flicked on the lights. Upon seeing Harry, she rushed over to him.

"Harry, speak to me." She commanded in a soft tone.

Between sobs Harry was able to get out two words, "My bear."

Seeming taken back that a stuffed toy could get him riled up like this she grabbed for one from the shelf and offered him it. His head fiercely shook back and forth, he wanted _his_ bear.

This interaction went on for almost an hour before Mrs. White made up her mind.

She grabbed a set of keys and lifted Harry into her arms. She carried him out of the house and to a car where she strapped him into a car seat. She climbed into the driver seat herself and turned back to him, "Where is it?"

Harry's sniffles forced him to answer in a whisper, "At the Dursley's."

She put the keys in the ignition, pulled out of the driveway and the car took off.


	5. Chapter 5

At 11 pm the car pulled into the driveway of the house which Harry should have never been visiting again.

The neighborhood seemed deserted and all the lights in the Dursley's house were out.

Mrs. White seemed in a hurry as she turned off the ignition and lifted Harry out of the vehicle.

"Come on." She whispered, looking up and down the street as though it were illegal for them to be there.

Being quite honest, it almost was. It's not like it wasn't nearing midnight and Harry hadn't been removed from the house earlier that day.

They seemed to be waiting for an eternity out on the porch while they waited for the door to be answered. A light went on just inside the door and it took a moment longer for the door to be open.

"What are you doing here," came a growl from a larger man shadowed by the light, "You know you're not supposed to be here."

"Sorry, but I wouldn't have come unless it were an emergency."

"Exactly, _what_ kind of emergency requires you to bring the kid here?"

"Maddy forgot something when she had someone sent over to pack a bag for Harry. We're here to retrieve it, we'll only be minute." She said as she tried to squeeze through the door frame and past the man.

He was quick enough to prevent this attempt, and stepped against the frame and pulled the door tight against his side, "What kind of something?"

"Something of sentimental value to him."

"That hardly gives me any information."

"Look Mister, I am here for business, there is no other reason I would _dare_ bring this boy back here. Now _let us through."_

The venom in her voice was not to be disobeyed, and it seemed the man lost his defiance. His hand shifted the door open wide and his body pressed against it, leaving an open space for them to pass through.

Mrs. White pulled Harry past him and pushed him in front of herself.

Immediately, for fear of losing his chance, he took off up the stairs and towards his room.

He knew exactly where his room was.

He could hear Mrs. White right behind him and the man hot on her heels. They caught up with Harry right as he reached his door.

Harry yanked on doorknob but it wouldn't open. Looking up, he concluded that some of the locks had been bolted earlier.

He eagerly jumped at them in an attempt to unlock them, but they were out of his reach.

He pleaded with his eyes to the two adults with him. Their hard expression stared unseeingly at the locks on the cupboard.

He tugged on Mrs. White's pant leg which pulled her to her senses. Her expression mollified as it lowered towards him, and reading his face, her shaky hands unlocked the bolts.

When the last one slid open he ripped the door open and entered the familiar area.

His eyes didn't gaze around as he already knew every inch of his room.

The shelf above him shuddered as his hand slapped around, quieting when it landed on some fabric. He delved his hand into the clothes and felt for his toy.

When it was in his grasp he pulled it down towards himself. Clutched to his chest he turned around to the door and readied to exit.

He spun to find penitence exuding from Mrs. White. Her caring face was shocked and shriveled at the condition of Harry's room.

"We can go now." Harry's small voice whispered to the two adults.

The two adults agreed with him, Mrs. White pulled on his arm and didn't let up until they were at the car and the man shut every door behind them.

They drove in silence. Mrs. White stared ahead at the road in front of her and Harry snuggled closer to his precious object.

Harry thought they were at the house when the car started slowing, but looking out the window, the dim glow of a coffee shop sign told him otherwise.

It was a large franchise, popular amongst everyone, and Harry often sat in the car while the Dursley's drank coffee and hot chocolate.

They pulled into the drive through and the window rolled down letting in the cold air of the night.

"Harry what would you like?"

The image of Dudley slurping the hot brown liquid invaded his mind. He desired one for himself, but he wouldn't voice it, for fear of it being a joke.

"Harry?"

"I'm fine." Was his short reply even though he wanted something.

Mrs. White seemed to read his mind and ordered him a hot chocolate.

She paid at the first window, and at the second she received their drinks.

Harry couldn't figure why she would order a coffee at this time of the night when he could feel his eyes already drooping.

He tucked the stuffed animal under his elbow and held the warm cup in both hands. He was content to sit there and let it warm his hands until it was cool enough to drink.

It wasn't till they were nearing the house that he took a hesitant slurp.

The liquid filled him with happiness and warmed him from his heads to his toes. It was most likely the best thing he had ever tasted.

He was so absorbed in the feeling of his warmth, Mrs. White opening his door and allowing the frigid air to seep into his bones startled him and he almost dropped the drink.

She unbuckled his seat belt and the two of them walked up into the house.

"Bed time Harry, how do you feel about sleeping on the couch? We shouldn't wake up the other boys trying to get you settled." She whispered to him.

Harry found himself nodding, too tired to do anything else.

The two stopped at a closet where Mrs. White grabbed a pillow and blanket, presumably for him.

She fluffed the pillow in her hands as they bumbled down the hall. She flipped the switch for the lights and they seemed to dig into Harry's eyes that were half closed.

He climbed onto the couch and set his head down on the pillow. He curled his body around his toy and snuggled beneath the cozy blanket which Mrs. White threw on him.

"Goodnight Harry." She said as she kissed his forehead.

"Goodnight." He sighed.

The lights flicked off and Harry guessed she had left.

"Goodnight -" he whispered once more before falling asleep and slipping into the unknown.

xXx

Smoke billowed through the room like a whirlwind of memories. The room was dark from both the night and the wisps curling around him.

He could hear screaming all around him. They were jumbles of words which he couldn't seem to make out. They echoed all around him, giving him shivers.

Harry spun in a circle, gazing all around himself and peering into the darkness. He intended to try to make out anything around him, but he was blinded.

" _Harry."_ He thought he heard.

Simply a whisper in the smoke, "Harry."

It seemed to come from all around him at once. Both behind him and in front of him.

He frantically spun in circles, looking for it, but only managing to disorientate himself.

" _Harry Potter."_ He heard from the left.

Harry's head turned to the direction he heard his name and wished he hadn't.

A shape had materialized out of the smoke, in a dark condensed snake. It avidly slithered towards him, and as it neared, it reared up. The mouth opened revealing rows of sharpened teeth ready to bite.

The snake head came down on him and he braced himself for the impact of the vicious bite.

But nothing came.

Opening his eyes, he saw only smoke dispersing from himself. The snake had returned to its original form of smoke.

Harry batted the smoke from his clothes, wanting to be rid of all pieces of the serpent.

" _I killed your parents Harry."_

Harry paused in his ministrations, confused. His parents were killed in a car crash, no one killed them.

He couldn't give it more thought as the listless voice resounded around him once more.

" _Now I'm going to kill you Harry."_

The whisper seemed to echo around the room, each time getting louder and frightening Harry more. His small hands shot up to his ears, pressing hard against his head trying to mute out the sound.

As the sound grew in loudness it penetrated his ears and made them ring. It reached the point where Harry considered screaming.

At its most unbearable height, a green glow started to erupt. It lightened the room and was unveiled through the smoke. It felt like dark and _powerful._

When both the sound and green light played through their most heightened state, everything seemed to end.

Both suddenly disappeared, leaving Harry standing in smoke.

xXx

Waking suddenly from his slumber, Harry bolted upright and regretted it.

He started coughing and retching.

The air stank and made it hard for him to breath.

Slowing his cough Harry took a look around him and wished he hadn't.

All around him, smoke clouded the air and obscured his vision. The sound of cackling could be heard in some directions along with the faint glow of red.

Harry realized that he had left one nightmare, only to enter another.

The dream seemed to follow him to reality where he was stuck in a fire.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" Harry called out to the unknown.

He thought he heard floorboards creaking behind him and he rushed in that direction.

He found a shut door in front of him and he opened it, nearly ripping it off its hinges.

He disapproved of his thoughtless decisions upon its opening when thicker, darker smoke slid through the doorway. It flooded the room and Harry was forced to squint.

Too much smoke was filling Harry's lungs and he fell to the floor in a coughing fit. Upon recovering, he recalled from school learning about fires and _staying low._

With his hands plastered on the ground he could easily feel the heat seeping through the wood. His left hand, the one closer to the door he just opened felt hotter than his right.

So Harry turned from the door and headed in the opposite direction.

He decided that the smoke was getting thinner and it was becoming easier to breath. Either he was moving away from the fire or there was another door closed and protecting him from the brunt of it.

He reached another door at the other of the room and expertly reached up for the knob. He was dissatisfied when he winced and pulled him hand back to him, crying out in pain of the hot doorknob. But Harry had acknowledged his mistake too late, and had already turned the knob when he was burnt.

Darkness filled his vision and he felt worse than he had when he had opened the first door.

It seemed every exit would only fill the room with more smoke, thus letting him decide his fate of dying quickly or slowly inhaling the painful gas for a prolonged suffocation.

He opted for the former, choosing painlessness over torture.

Accepting his fate he threw the door open the rest of the way and marveled in the way the smoke flooded out. It was like a tidal wave of darkness, enveloping him and his soul.

He was breathing in darkness and fought against coughing it out.

It was so painful and it burned his lungs.

Harry cried out, but instead of feeling pain on his next inhale, he felt nothing.

 _Am I dead?_ He thought. _Is this what being dead feels like?_

His eyes hesitantly opened and he took note of the darkness all around him.

Maybe the shadows would carry him down to hell. Or perhaps latch onto him like rope and tangle him forever in purgatory.

Harry grabbed at his arms and brushed at them hoping to dispel anything that may bind to him.

He rose to his feet and gazed around him.

It appeared darker at eye level then at kneeling level.

But rather strangely, Harry could see the faint trace of light pulsing through the fog. In a trance he trailed it while having no problem breathing.

He bumped into something soft, and nearly collapsed on top of it. Patting along it, he made his way around it and continued towards the light.

 _Could this be the route to heaven?_

The light was growing and at some points Harry could swear he saw red.

 _Maybe I'm making my way to hell_.

When Harry got closer he thought he could feel walls closing in on him, pressing on him from the front.

Instead of a door to hell, Harry found an open rectangle, which when he stepped into, white light blinded him. His eyes closed and his hands shot up. It felt more like to heaven to him, with white light and clean air.

"I've got the boy!" Called a voice which was rapidly approaching him.

In front of him, everything was hectic. People seemed to be in a craze pushing behind a yellow taped unraveled across the driveway. Red trucks lined the curb in front of his houses and men in heavy jumpsuits were running around, some of them even carrying a wide tube which sprayed water.

 _Firefighters_ Harry thought.

He was grabbed around the waist and pulled into a jumpsuit covered man's arms. He rushed Harry to a nearby truck where a stretcher was waiting.

Harry was gently tossed on top, and from his place he could see the house.

It was entombed in red flames licking up the sides of the house. Heavy pillars of smoke escaped through the open windows and slowly covered the sky. The house was like a fiery monster consuming itself.

Harry couldn't comprehend how he could awake from his slumber to a blazing fire. Why didn't he wake up earlier, before it had become untamable?

The paramedics around him talked quietly, whispering undoubtedly about him.

He caught snatches of what they were saying; "His lungs are clear," "No trace of smoke," "He couldn't have been in the house at all."

But since he appeared from within the house, they were required to get him checked out at the hospital.

Which is how he ended up strapped to a stretcher in the back of an ambulance racing through traffic.

The paramedics spoke to one another above him, discussing the inexplicable condition of the boy.

Knowing they were talking about him, Harry tuned them out.

His mind was in a daze, wondering how the fire had caught. How had it spread without waking him? Where was everyone else? Why didn't anyone wake him? Was there a connection between his dream and the fire?

 _Who did that voice belong to?_

Harry was convinced he had heard it before, somewhere in a distant memory.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry thought there was nothing wrong with him and quite frankly, the doctors agreed with him. They couldn't find any trace of Harry being inside the house. He wasn't oxygen deprived. There was no smoke in his lungs. No blurred vision from spot filled eyes. Nothing.

Due to this he had to sit the entire day in a patient bed, with nothing to do and hardly any visitors, minus the nurse doing her checks.

He was sitting patiently, and bored on the edge of the bed, innocently swinging his legs back and forth when Maddy walked in.

xXx

"Come along Harry." Maddy yelled back at him.

Harry's tiny child legs were no match for Maddy's adult ones. Even with high heels, Maddy could easily out walk Harry, leaving him to trail behind, with the distance increasing every second.

He was lugging his bag around with him, even though it was only a backpack that Maddy had brought from her office as his was caught in the fire, its contents weighed him down making Harry struggle to stay upright, let alone keep pace. The heaviness of the bag along with the incline of the hill slowed him until he finally came to a stop. Harry couldn't keep up and could go no further. Only a short break is what he told himself.

He would start walking in a second.

The small rest let him gaze backwards, he was only halfway up the long winding pathway which he and Maddy had started on upon exiting the vehicle. He could even see the sign but not the words, which Maddy said would read _Wool's Orphanage_ , stationed at the top of a gated driveway.

The grass here seemed darker than anywhere else, with each blade cut to the exact size, making it seem painfully orderly.

Rocks coated each level of the path, they emphasized the true vastness of the steep incline. At the top of the winding path, sitting upright on the top of the hill was a massive building.

It was for lack of better word, a mansion, and Harry, after living for years in a cupboard, almost imagined it being a castle.

" _Keep up Harry!"_ Maddy yelled down to him from the top of the hill.

She had seemed frustrated when she entered the hospital to collect him, and her mood had severely worsened. Maddy had thought that after placing Harry with Mrs. White, the job would be done. But after the fire, she had had to reopen his case, and find a new house for him. Thus leading to more work, in the form of dealing with the kid and paperwork. Which seemed to increase the pain of her headache, and making her short with Harry, almost to the point of rude.

He shouldered his bag and ran up the path, reaching Maddy within minutes, all the while out of breath.

Her face was straight, concealing all emotions, but her stance was rigid, exerting the irritation she felt. She glanced down at Harry and her lips pressed together into a grimace, disliking the way he was huffing and puffing.

She pitifully gave him a minute to catch his breath before she continued on. Maddy couldn't quite grasp how every move Harry made, sparked her anger, even though she knew he was just a boy.

Said boy nearly stepped on her heels as she mounted the porch steps made of rock. She angrily sighed as she felt the back of her heels slide downward and nearly fall from her feet. It seemed that Harry would only bring her trouble since she was put on her case.

Upon the small porch, Harry could see from one end of the house to the other, and he thought that it was quite drab. The eerie walls were painted an ash grey, making it feel old and haunted. The grey bricks along with the winding rocky path up a hill, gave Harry the feel of a _haunted_ mansion. It wouldn't be a place for the freighted, but instead could harden the hearts of those within, until they were cruel and stony.

Maddy swung a large knocker heavily against the door and its' echo could be heard from within the house.

Within seconds a dreary man appeared at the door, wearing black trousers with a button up and tie.

He took one look at them both, "How may I help you?" He said monotone.

"This here is Harry, he is your new ward. Here are the forms, I will be in touch." She stated to the man, giving Harry a sudden shove forwards.

A manila envelope exchanged hands, which the man peeked into before nodding.

He grabbed Harry by the arm, not so gently, and rushed him inside.

The inside was much the same outside. The walls were dreary colors with furniture to match. A black framed mirror hung on the wall, a peppered rug underneath his feet, and a row of black nondescript shoes. Everything was precise, shaded and extracted from a nightmare.

"I'm Jonathan, the keeper of the orphanage, you may address me as Mr. McMillan or Sir. You will not back talk me or give me attitude, is that understood?"

Mutely, Harry nodded his head.

When Jonathan tapped his ear, Harry voiced his answer, "Yes."

"Yes _what?_ "

"Yes _sir._ "

Satisfied with his response he pulled him up a flight of dark brown hardwood stairs and down a grey hallway.

He used a key to open the last mahogany door in the hall and shoved him in.

A black bed frame was pushed against a wall, with a mattress and grey sheets. Along with a black stand up wooden dresser beside it and a dark desk pushed up against the wall opposite it.

Harry cautiously stepped into the grey four walled room, thinking the walls might close in on him and squeeze the life from him.

"During your stay here, you will follow all rules and show respect, is that clear?" He demanded of Harry.

"Yes sir"

Content, he continued, "There is no loud or boisterous play. You will be on your best behavior at _all_ times. Your uniform will be impeccable. You will help out when needed or asked. You will show respect to _all_ your elders. You will be on time to all meals, which are promptly at 7:30, 12 and 5. Lights out at 10. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry managed to gulp out.

"Your uniform is in your wardrobe."

After concluding what he needed to say, Mr. McMillan left his room, closing the door behind him. The heavy door clicked loudly shut and silenced his room.

Harry quickly pulled open the dresser and changed into the school-like uniform. Interestingly they were all his size.

His backpack on the bed, he pulled out the pair of clothes to shove into the dresser. Although he could tell they were new, none had the price tags left on them.

Harry sat on the ground, leaning his back against the bed frame, thinking to himself, _I don't like this place_.

He allowed a single tear to leak from his eye, shaking from the fear of the scary building with nothing to comfort him.

Short chapter, I know.


	7. Chapter 7

5 o'clock was approaching and Harry knew he would soon have to face the reality of his new life. In the last 24 hours he had been whisked away from school and set up at the house of Mrs. White. All of its residents were energetic and the house had a personality. Then the fire happened and Harry was whisked to a new place.

 _Wool's Orphanage._

A place filled to the brim with dread and misery. The seams in the walls almost oozed misery and conduct.

He felt alone in his small room, sitting tightly against the bed wishing he could be wrapped around his bear. Harry couldn't convince himself that changing his clothes into the straight uniform was even worth the effort he had given it.

But when the clock on the desk glowed 5:00 in red letters, Harry was happy he had already changed. His stomach was growling from the exertion of climbing up the hill and eating solely hospital food that day.

His feet almost trembled beneath him, unused and had fallen asleep long ago from his unmoved position. The black uniform shoes didn't squeak as he shuffled along the floor towards the door.

Looking down at his clutched hand, he thought about the fact that he would never see his bear again. His most prized possession had slowly and painfully burned in the house that had caught fire. The world was such a cruel place for Harry, every joy he had in his life was always ripped away from him. Harry would have to toughen up, he would have to wipe the tears with his eyes and continue with his life. Become a hardened shell impenetrable by kindness and the love that always hurt him.

The knob on the door was relatively stiff, most likely from being opened very few times and it took Harry a couple himself to get it opened.

When he did he believed that the dreary hallway ahead of him stretched on forever. And with every step, it appeared to elongate itself further, giving him an even longer distance to travel.

His nerves were on fire when he finally reached the staircase. Instead of galloping downwards at once, he paused at the top to steady his breathing.

Harry was in a new place, with new people, with new clothes, with a new life. Nothing was what he had ever know. Harry wouldn't know anyone and no one would know Harry. It was a place for a fresh start with no one to know his story. He could be anyone he wanted to be.

After multiple deep breaths, he gained the courage he needed to descend the stairs. At the bottom he followed the smell of food through an archway which opened up into a somber room filled to the brim with decorations of different shades of grey.

The separation of this room compared to the rest of the house was well defined. Your eyes were drawn immediately to it. The center table meant for fine dining was topped precariously with a basket of flowers. The red of them popped against the grey. Above the centered red was glass. An elegant crystal glass chandelier hung down from the ceiling overhead. The glass glinted in the light as one moved around it.

"Nice of you to join us Harry." Called Jonathan from the head of the table. His deep voice boomed across the silence and startled Harry from his reverie. "What time did I tell you dinner was to be at?"

Noticing the long table was seated with children of all ages, all of whom were staring at him, Harry lost his nerve and transformed into a nervous wreck.

He was barely able to get out a response, "Fi-fi-five o'clock." He looked expectantly at Harry when he paused in his answer, before Harry continued, "Sir."

He spoke to Harry, with an air of superiority and Harry got the feeling there would be no fun or, according to Vernon, _funny business_ around him. Jonathan had the same hawk eyes his uncle had, which could seek out every mistake Harry could do, and they had already begun their strenuous work.

"I said to be here at five o'clock. Then why would you decide to be late?"

Harry couldn't comprehend a good reason so he merely stated exactly what had happened merely minutes ago, "I waited till my clock said five, before coming down here Sir."

"Clearly that made you late."

"Yes sir." Harry answered

"Will you repeat this mistake again?"

Content with single worded answers, Harry gladly let the man continue with his questions. "No sir."

"When I say five o'clock, I mean 5 o'clock promptly. That goes for any time I specify. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Then take a seat."

Harry gazed at the table looking for an empty seat for him to place himself. He found the only one to be located near the center of the table where some older boys had already been situated.

He could feel the stares of everyone following him as he circled the table. But more specifically, as he approached he could hear the older boys whispering and could see some slight hand gestures between them.

They all silenced when the scraping of the chair being pulled outwards resounded through the room. No one commented as he precariously balanced himself on the edge of the chair and pulled himself backwards, his legs too short to reach the ground.

Jonathan was looking up again at Harry, and when it seemed he was going to pester him again, everyone returned their attention to their food. But Harry was not forgotten in their minds.

The younger boys deemed him worthy to play outside with them on a later date. The girls decided he wasn't worth their effort. The older boys marked him with a big red x on his forehead, he was their new target. A plaything for them to team up and mess with, the way Dudley and his friends had done previously. Any pranks or mischief would be done to Harry and the blame would be put on him.

But Harry didn't know this. His innocent mind was content to believing that all the children around him, since they were orphaned like him, they were like him. He assumed they would all be kind to him and include him in their plans.

However wrong Harry could be, their first torturous plan was already in motion, and Harry didn't suspect a thing.

His plate, like the others, had already been served and was resting at his seat.

A steaming glob of meat took up the majority of his plate, unrecognizable due to the sauce topping it. It deserved the title of being _mystery meat._ Bright orange carrot slices took up a quarter of the plate. The rest of the plate was filled with peas. All things which Harry had never eaten before. Harry felt the urge to tasted the three foods separately and savor each flavor. The divine green peas and orange carrots looked absolutely-

 _Green_ peas.

And _orange_ carrots.

The two colors mixing in between where there was no divider.

They mustn't touch.

Thoughts of the two colors clashing in his mind and his concentration on separating the two with his knife prevented him from noticing his surroundings.

He was encircled by older orphan boys. Whom had been giving each other peculiar glances. Glances which Harry took no notice of. In other words, he was the perfect unsuspecting victim of any cruel school boy.

While he loaded his first spoonful of green peas, and opened his mouth to consume them, an elbow from the boy on his right jutted sharply into his ribs underneath his raised arm. He gasped out in surprise and pain as he was collided with. His eyes went wide and his arm was thrown off balance. The fork dropped the small distance from his hand to the plate and the peas were dispelled across his plate and the table. The mixture of the orange and green vegetables appeared once more on his plate and he scrambled to correct them.

In the process of leaning forward to separate them, the boy on his left had pulled his chair back. And instead of jumping forward to clean his plate, Harry jumped forward to put his head in his food.

The boys around him boisterously laughed, and Harry's cheeks turned embarrassingly red.

Reaching forward to grab a napkin, Harry took a gaze around the room. Everyone looked an equal amount of surprised and horrified. That is, except for Jonathan, who was fuming at the head of the table. It seemed that the man had already taken a disliking to Harry and would use anything as reason to punish him.

"This is _not_ acceptable behavior." he fumed.

An intense fear crept over Harry. This was his first day being at this house and he was already in trouble. He had expertly managed to piss off any authoritative person without doing anything.

They wouldn't be helping him with anything. At all. Harry was on his own. He could already tell that the red x on his forehead had grown and was visible to _everyone_ at the table instead of just the boys.

"May I be excused?" Harry whispered, hoping to get out of there as fast as possible.

"We will have a chat after dinner, until then, stay in your room." He declared threateningly pointing a fork towards Harry and the door.

His small feet scrambled to get underneath himself as he stumbled out of the room. Harry could feel the eyes of everyone following him, heads turning, as he left.

He didn't need to sit alone in his room for long, he was late for dinner and when he hadn't even started, everyone had been nearly finished. Harry could hear the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as everyone stood up.

His stomach growled thinking about the dinner he just missed, but he couldn't care. He was used to being hungry.

Harry imagined he could hear an extremely heavy set of footsteps climbing the stairs along with the flurry of children scurrying up the stairs. He imagined they would be giving him a wide berth as he tromped away.

The anger would turn his face red and steam would blow out of his ears and nose. Arguably, in Harry's mind he looked like the devil, coming to bring hell to anyone who dared to defy him.

And in that case, it was Harry.

It was surprising that when Jonathan entered, the door didn't slam open. Instead, it silently clicked open and slowly spun into the room.

Maybe it was for the dramatics, because Harry didn't notice anyone else in his room until Jonathan had his feet planted firmly in front of Harry. He nearly jumped sky high when the shock hit him and he noticed the man.

"Look at me." He growled.

Harry only got a glimpse of the thunderous expression before his head was tossed quickly to the side.

" _Look at me_ when I am speaking to you."

A red mark had already begun to develop on his cheek and he hesitantly lifted a hand to his face as he turned back to Jonathan.

Jonathan moved his hands to his hips in a sort of offensive position and Harry feared for the worst.

"Do not _ever_ behave like that again." He said, punctuating each word. "Do not _ever_ disobey me again."

Harry mutely nodded along to everything he said, wishing for him to simply leave. He had already started tuning him out and stopped listening to everything he said.

Thankfully it seemed his rampage was coming to an end, "If you _ever_ embarrass me like that in front of anyone again, you _will be punished."_

When his final words filled Harry's mind, the towering man left the room, closing the door behind him, filling the room with silence.

Hardy could hear the laughter of the children in the rooms next to him die down as Jonathan travelled through the hall then start back up as he passed.

He sat for a couple more minutes before he decided Jonathan would leave him for the rest of the evening. Then, once certain he was gone, Harry stood.

He ran across the hall to the washroom and locked the door behind him, not wanting anyone to walk in on him.

Looking in the mirror, he thought he looked grey. As if the house were closing in on him, and its greyness was rubbing on him. The uniform he wore was still cleanly pressed despite being worn.

He ripped them off, feeling like he was ridding himself of his jail and gaining freedom.

The warm water flowed around his body, creating arrows and rivulets along his body. His feet reddened from the heat and grew wrinkled.

Harry stood there for a while simply enjoying the feel of warm water heating him up and drowning his sorrows.

And when it was time to get out, he also felt saddened as he pulled on his clothes.

They were a marker of his new life, confining him to the walls of this house.

He stumbled back to his room and feeling exhausted, only able to shut the door behind him, he crawled onto his bed and slept. He didn't have the effort to cry, he knew it would be useless as his life wouldn't get better here.

xXx

Harry's dreams were plagued by his reality.

He'd seen angered teachers, guardians, adults. All because of something he'd done.

But it didn't matter to him. He didn't care.

Instead of waking up in fear like he would from any of his nightmares, Harry woke up silently, staring ahead at the ceiling. He felt nothing-except hunger.

His stomach growled loudly. Harry hadn't eaten dinner earlier that night, and when falling asleep he had completely forgotten about it.

But he couldn't forget about it now, his stomach felt like it was curling in on itself and was sending signals of pain to his mind.

Irritated, he took matters into his own hands. He hopped out of bed as quiet as he could and crept down the hall and to the kitchen.

Silver light from the moon streamed in through a window Harry never realized existed. It illuminated the room little, and cast shadows all around. In the dark, the room looked the same as during the day, grey.

It wasn't hard for Harry to find the fridge. He easily pulled it open and the light filled the room.

A glance around the room showed that no one had seen or reacted to the bright light.

Hungrily he pulled out a small bag of grapes and picked out a full vine. The fridge door drifted closed on its own accord and Harry winced at the noise. He paused for only a second to establish that no one was coming to investigate. Then he proceeded to wash his green delicacy under a small stream of water and munch on them.

Suddenly Harry had an idea.

He pulled out a single egg from a carton that was in the fridge.

He held it lightly in both hands, carefully, to not let it go flying if he were to trip.

The living room was less than a second away and Harry started to develop some nerves. He was jumpy and nearly screamed every time he planted his foot down and the floor creaked.

He crawled under the table and set the egg gently on the chair. He froze when the chandelier in the room went on, his entire body tenses to either fight or flight.

"Who's in here?" Called a cleaning lady who did chores around the house.

Harry stayed still as a statue as she moved away and waited what seemed an eternity. Certain that she was gone and the egg wouldn't move, he left the room and made his getaway.

The path to his new room was shorter than ever and Harry crawled back into bed to sleep and await the prank he had already put in motion.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry's alarm promptly woke him up the next morning with more than enough time to get dressed before getting breakfast. He had learned the night before to not be late for meals and throw off anyone's schedule.

He sauntered directly behind a group of younger boys who'd be at the orphanage longer than he, and listened in on their conversation.

"I did not cheat!" Called a blonde haired boy.

"Then how else did you win? You don't have that kind of skill!" Replied a brown haired boy who playfully shoved the other while everyone laughed.

"Maybe I've gotten better." The blonde boy blushed.

"Or maybe it was just luck." Inputted another one as everyone laughed again.

Harry opted to ignore the boys who were speaking about some game Harry couldn't care less for. He brought a smile upon his face by remembering the night before.

Oh, how he had almost been caught.

The eggs placed carefully on the chair.

The chaos that would certainly erupt today.

 _Revenge would be sweet._ Harry thought, _you make a fool of me, and I'll make a fool of you._

His excitement could hardly be contained and it was all Harry could do to not start skipping down the hallway.

When the boys and Harry approached the opening to the dining room, Harry cut in front of them.

He wanted to get a good seat for the show. As well, he wouldn't be noticed entering the room as the group of children behind him would overtake anyone's attention.

Harry swerved around the table heading to an empty chair he had already set his eyes upon. It was the same seat as the day before. The one he had been seated on when Jonathan had yelled at him. And similar to the previous day, the chairs around him quickly filled up.

The older boys all took notice of Harry. The young boy was like dead meat in a shark tank sitting in the midst of the boys.

Harry didn't show any emotion on his face.

If he was scared of the boys, they wouldn't know it,

But he could tell the boys were unnerved by his presence. He knew they were whispering about him, as they weren't very subtle and snatches of conversation he heard only confirmed his suspicions.

 _The chair… The boy…_

Their referrals to him were unspecific, but there was no one else in the room that had caught their attention.

But frankly, Harry didn't care and simply ignored them, he was too excited for the show.

If he didn't fear being caught, he would've been jumping around in his seat.

He was paying attention so intently to the door for when Jonathan walked in that he yelped when a plate was set down in front of him.

The scent of scrambled eggs, toast and turkey bacon filled his nose and his mouth watered. His stomach growled and he startled himself when his hand involuntarily reached out for his fork. He would probably get punished if he started eating before Jonathan arrived.

 _I'm sure once he sits down he won't pay too much attention to your eating Harry._

With his mind made up, he lifted his fork to his lips and bit into the delicious food. He received some dirty looks from everyone around the table who had been there long enough to know the rules.

If Harry are fast enough he could be done before anyone even started. _Too suspicious_ , he thought. Anyone would know that he would've eaten quickly intentionally. But eating early could be played off as misunderstood. So he settled into eating normally whatever he could.

"Good Morning boys." Marked the arrival of Harry's prey.

"Good morning Jonathan." Replied everyone except for Harry.

"I gather you all slept well." There were murmurs of agreement from around the table.

Harry watched as Jonathan's eyes scanned the table, doing a quick once-over and headcount. He appeared satisfied with the presence of all his charges and he made his way to the head of the table.

This was the moment Harry had been waiting for. The moment Jonathan would sit down and find the little surprise.

The anticipation grew, but nothing was suspenseful to anyone else. Only Harry knew what was coming.

And when the chair was pulled back from the table Harry's eyes greedily watched everything take place.

Jonathan twisted his body around the front of the chair so that he was facing the table. He swiped down with his hands to flatten his shirt and tie to prevent wrinkling. His back was bending forward as his bottom reared out and-

"Johnathan?" Called a voice from the doorway.

Harry couldn't help but grimace as Jonathan paused in his movements and raised himself back to his full height.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"It seems someone was messing around last night." Harry's breath caught, had she actually seen him? "It appears someone had a late night snack from the cupboard." Harry brushed her off, he hadn't taken anything from the cupboard. Although another boy at the table had, so that must mean there was something worthwhile in there. A tasty snack for a later date. Harry filed that thought away for later use.

"I will get to the bottom of it. For now, I wish to enjoy a nice breakfast."

Immediately, upon the conclusion of his words he continued his descent into his chair.

Harry almost didn't see the moment he hit the chair, but even if he didn't, he wouldn't've needed to.

A look of astonishment filled his face, leaving his eyes bulging and mouth gaping. The large hands sat unmoving at his sides. Slowly steam boiled underneath his skin and red rose from his chin to his forehead. He was at the stage in his anger where he would probably kill someone if they stepped close enough to him. Despite being half a table away, Harry could've sworn he saw the man's hand twitch forward to where his utensils lay- _I'd stab someone with my fork if they did that to me._

Harry was unnerved by his truthful thought of violence. In reality he didn't think he could hurt a fly let alone inflict scarring damage to someone, but his mind spoke the truth.

" **Who is responsible for this?** " Jonathan bellowed out.

You could tell by the way every kid in the room flinched backwards what they truly thought about Jonathan. And all of them could remember a time when Jonathan was angry. But seeing him like this, nobody had _ever_ seen Jonathan this mad.

"I will repeat myself just this once, who did this?" His loud voice seemed to shake the room and Harry could swear he heard the chandelier jingling.

Harry downplayed his smile, controlling his emotions so that his mouth was in frown. His eyes were wide as though he were surprised as well. But his green eyes were the window to his soul and they betrayed him. If anyone had been looking at him they would see his gleeful eyes and know what he had done.

No one answered Jonathan's request as nobody in the room had a death wish for themselves, although Harry was tempted to come forward as he knew no one would bother him afterwards. But he didn't, he had already suffered at the hands of Jonathan and would prefer not to do so again. He didn't mind letting Jonathan find his own culprit and them being blamed instead of Harry.

Harry already disliked many of the people surrounding him, he couldn't care less if they got beaten up or killed in his place. All he cared about was surviving in the world he lived in.

The world that was created for him was terrible for him, it had ripped away all the people who loved him, all the things he had loved and instead fed him pain. If that were what every life is life, Harry didn't want to fall prey to it. No. Harry wanted to rule that world of cruelty. The world where he would dish out beatings and make other people suffer. Harry would never cry or suffer at the hands of another. It was his time to rise.

So when Jonathan set his eyes on an older boy who was foolishly trying to contain a giggle, Harry did nothing as Jonathan focused on him.

"Everybody, _get out._ Andrew, you stay in your chair." The bite of a snake is harmless until it releases its venom, which is the same as Jonathan. His words are his bite as they puncture the silence and what comes after is his venom.

"Get out now!" He bellowed once more as nobody had moved.

Everyone was too shocked at what had occurred and were too fearful of having his rage pointed at them to move even a muscle. But when he voiced his command once more, they all sprung into motion, Harry included. Their lack of movement had angered him more and the longer they stayed the angrier he got. All at once a symphony of chairs scratching the floor as they scrambled from their chairs.

The children of all ages were nearly pushing one another over as they all but ran out the door. Harry was lost in the crowd as he marched through the halls and up the stairs. They all had the same thoughts of finding safety in their rooms, so they all herded in the same direction.

It was only then when the dining room was out of sight and Harry knew he was in the safe that he let his smile cover his face. The smirk rose up on the right side and his green eyes glinted mischievously, for a moment before disappearing once more.

One by one the crowd dispersed as doors came into view and their occupants branched from the crowd to find their shelter. Harry could take note of where each boy turned away. He took careful note of which doors the elder boys who had played the prank on him the other night opened and went into.

It even seemed as though some of them shared rooms with one another. They'd been here the longest together and had grown to trust one another enough to share living space with. _Perfect_ , Harry thought.

xXx

Upon entering his room, Harry shut the door behind himself as quickly as possible. Although he had been the cause of Andrew's punishment, he couldn't bring himself to listen to it. Harry had already heard enough yelling and crying in his life and every time he heard a belt whoosh through the air he flinched. They reminded him of all the times Uncle Vernon had hit him with a belt and the pain of it that had lasted for days.

He had no more pity for the weak, only those who were strong would survive. And Harry was strong. He thought he could adapt to any environment he was shoved into. He thought he was able to adapt to every sort of torture the adults and children could throw his way.

And he would.

 _I'll hurt them before they have any chance to hurt me._ He thought. _It is my turn to be the one with power._

A knock on the door interrupted his internal decision making. The elder lady who had almost caught him sneaking around the other night was there. She didn't pay any mind at the cautious way Harry stood in the doorway, preventing her from entering.

"You must be Harry." She spoke softly to him, "I'm Pauline, I keep the house clean and I cooked the wonderful food that you experienced during your dining here."

 _I certainly did experience the meals, just not the food,_ Harry reminded himself of being kicked out the night before. It appeared to Harry that although she had been at the house the entire time he had been, she had no idea what last night's dinner had encompassed for him. But she certainly knew about what transpired at breakfast that morning.

"Normally, most kids here get a better welcoming than you did but things happen and I haven't had the time to introduce myself yet." She paused a moment, thinking over her next words, "I'm here to inform you about the schedule that you will be following. Of course you know about the meals, but there's more."

In reality, nothing could ever be quite as simple as show up for meals then do whatever you please, so Harry was prepared knowing that he would have to do more. She motioned for Harry to step out of the doorway so that she could step into the room and talk with him face to face. But Harry wouldn't let her in that easily, this was his space and he wanted it private.

With a sigh she continued with what she had been prepared to tell him, "After breakfast, make sure your clothes are neat and you've cleaned up, then head over to the classroom- just because you're somewhere new doesn't mean you get to drop your studies. It usually runs till our 12 o'clock lunch and after that is chores till dinner. At both lunch and dinner you will be rotating with the other kids to help me set up, cook and clean up. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Harry agreed.

"Pauline is fine and after dinner you are free to do as you please."

"Thanks for telling me." Harry nearly shut the door in her face as she didn't immediately step away, but when she realized the door was closing she hastily got away.

A glance at the time showed that the disruption at breakfast had made him arrive earlier to his room than what he should expect on a daily basis, so he figured he had time before he needed to head to class. So for the next half hour he thought about all the ways he could raise himself upon the other children.

xXx

After leaving his room Harry was greeted with whispers in the hallways.

It seemed the other children had the same idea as him when it came to waiting in the bedrooms till it were class time. This resulted in nearly everyone leaving at around the same time and being crowded in the halls again. They all gave Harry quick glances which they hoped he wouldn't notice as he pulled his giant door closed behind him to dwarf his body.

He did notice and he could feel the weight of their stares pinning him down as he started walking. The instinct to dash through them all was overwhelming and Harry fought to keep it down, instead taking careful slow steps across the threshold.

Every step he took towards the other kids loudened their whispers and Harry couldn't help but listen in.

"Andrew isn't coming to class today…" Said the taller one.

"If it were someone else, I would laugh at the way his face scrunches up every time he sits down." The shorter one snickered.

"Ha, I'm sure he'd laugh at _you._ "

"Yeah… but Donald, I wonder who did it though."

Donald paused for a minute, his eyes briefly meeting with Harry's, "I bet you it was the new kid. No one has ever touched Jonathan and then he shows up just last night. Then he gets kicked out of dinner- I'm telling you it's got to be him Brandon."

"He was even eating breakfast this morning before hardly anyone had even sat down. _No one_ does that." Brandon quietly exclaimed.

They paused in their conversation as Harry was finally passing by them. Harry wasn't able to help himself as his mouth turned upwards in a smirk. The smile reached his eyes and they glinted when he rolled them towards the boys.

"Good morning." He spoke smoothly as he passed, not bothering to stop.

The two were flabbergasted and didn't come up with a response. It wasn't till Harry neared the stairs that he heard the two start their whispering once more.

At the bottom of the stairs Harry was faced with the decision of where he should turn to in order to get to the class. He recognized one direction as leading towards the front door so arced himself around the handrail and headed down the other.

He stepped out from the turn and immediately stepped back. Some girls stood gossiping together. Their heads inclined towards one another in a show of secretivity. Their uniforms seemed finer pressed than the ones of the opposite gender. Black stockings ran across their legs and folded neatly into their black flats with a grey patterned quilt. Their torsos were covered in a similar fashion to Harry and with their backs turned to him, he was able to eavesdrop.

"The boys are all scared of him."

"And Pauline said she saw someone she'd never met before in the kitchen last night. It had to of been him, he's the only person which Pauling wouldn't know." Said another.

"Corri, Terra, just stay away from him, he's trouble."

" _I_ think he doesn't have a heart." Spoke Corri.

"Did you see the way he was smiling when we were walking away from breakfast? It's like he was _happy_ that Andrew got in trouble." Agreed Terra.

"The both of you, _shut up,_ don't get involved with him, I have a really bad feeling about him." The unknown girl said frightened, before the three of them started moving.

It seemed that Harry had already struck fear into the hearts of all the children at the institute. He couldn't help but be happy at what had been the outcome of his late night decision. It would be far easier than he had hoped for him to control everyone that he now lived with. Gone was the boy who let Dudley and his friends push him around, Harry was ready to push back.

The footsteps of the boys climbing down the stairs alerted him that his hiding place wasn't going to be very safe anymore. Taking long strides he followed the three girls for he hoped they were going to the classroom. He didn't want to appear lost and have to submit to asking for help and appear weak. He would easily find his way around the building without aid.

The backs of their skirts brushed momentarily up against corners whenever they turned from the hallway. Harry made sure to keep far enough back from them to be out of their suspicions and still have them in his view.

A large door appeared at the end of the hall after one final turn, with a metal slab labelling it the 'School Room.' Reaching it, Harry put his hand on the knob feeling the coolness of the metal run goosebumps up his arms. Without hesitating, he swung the door open and stepped inside. Any second thoughts or feelings of cold feet were pushed back. He was too confident in this new life to suddenly back out now.

He observed the room quickly, eyes scanning over everything before deciding on an appropriate place to sit. With logical attention he chose the seat that would put him in view of his victim.

Harry was as prepared for class as he'd ever be, and Harry thought of everything he could accomplish while in his room. Every step that he would need to do in order to ensure his new plan would worked needed to be perfect and he easily found the holes and gaps which could mess him up.

Everything would go according to plan. His scheme would work out and the curiosity in his fellow housemates would be quenched, being replaced with the horror that a monster was in their midst. Harry wanted their terror to be so great that they wouldn't be able to sleep that night- or any night for that matter.


	9. Chapter 9

The seat Harry chose was one row back and over from the kid Brandon. From his vantage point he openly stared over his shoulder, and no one noticed. The head of the person directly in front of Harry obscured him from the view of the teacher. Only if he were standing at the far end of the chalkboard would he be able to see Harry. In fact, Harry was so close to the student in front of him that he could differentiate multiple strands of hair.

His goal was easy- unscrew both ends of the mechanical pencil that was waiting for him on his desk. Then precariously tear pieces of his lined paper, put them in his mouth to cover them in a coat of saliva and shove it into the end of the hollow pencil. With careful aim he would direct the remainder of the torn paper to slide across the ground and lay flat underneath Brandon's desk. With the evidence left falsely under the boy's desk, he could shoot the spitball into the teacher's forehead- as long as his aim was good.

As Harry awaited for the moment he needed to set his plan in motion, he blatantly ignored the teachings that day- it did not matter, no one could see him regardless of what he was doing. Instead of listening to the counting he dazed off and cast his eyes around the room to take in every aspect of the four corners.

One occupied a small ruggish desk for Mr. Van Shee. Its wobbly rolling chair had a depressed cushion with the seams pulling apart to reveal the fluffy sack. One drawer hung open, out of the three vertical drawers on the right side of the desk, it was the middle one. Manilla folders were stacked as high as they could go without catching on the upper layer of wood. Atop the desk was a desktop. The fine machine had thick cords running off to the side and behind the desk.

The front edge of the desk held a single personal item of Mr. Van Shee's. The black photograph faced the chair of the desk and was invisible to the view of the rest of the room's occupants. But to Harry's teacher he could peek at it whenever he wished, and by the finger smudges on both sides of the backing, it was obvious he admired the picture often.

Harry declared it to be honorable. The photo that is, not the fact Mr. Van Shee cared deeply for whatever the image was. Instead, the way the sunlight flickered through the set of shades on the window to cast light on the frame and caused it to glow. The way sun caused the dust particles in the air to illuminate and give it a dreary and old feel. It created an elegant beauty that couldn't be recreated.

It almost scarred Harry's eyes, knowing he could be so close to a world of beauty, so delicate that it could shatter under the pressure of a single finger but could never be a part of it himself. Something so perfect was accomplished unknowingly and without the interference of the object. No one could ever give Harry the kind of grace he saw in the photo that he so deeply desired.

Harry was disgusted.

 _Reality is not perfect, and perfection is not reality. If that were so, we'd all be dead._

He was tempted to glide across the room and destroy the sight that had been teasing him, but if he did his plan would be ruined, so he bided his time.

But it was splendid that his hatred had been focused on the teacher's desk, for when Mr. Van Shee took his place at his desk after assigning the class lines, Harry was the first to notice. And gladly he did.

With his target in place and his scapegoat a meter away, he was ready to put his plan in motion.

One small edge of the paper was ripped and rolled into a ball. Harry's hand lifted it to his face and it was popped into his mouth. Pulling it out again Harry was disgusted to find that his fingers had suffered under the saliva as well. The thin layer of liquid glistened, it was stunning that the small thing was about to cause so much damage.

The damp crumpled paper was shoved into one end of the mechanical pencil and altogether set down upon the desk. Harry took care to make sure he was holding only the torn paper and not any that were underneath it in the pile. He hastily leaned out of his seat across the aisle so that he was breathing down Brandon's neck. From his standing point he could peer over Brandon's right shoulder and see the lines he had been writing. Which Harry was happy to see consisted of drawing a cartoon Mr. Van Shee in an embarrassing position.

The paper slipped from Harry's grasp and thankfully landed beneath the desk, just pointing out into the aisle. The return to Harry's own desk was a piece of cake and he grabbed for his pencil. The plastic log perched just so on his bottom lip and his top lip closed around it, forming a tiny _o._

Focusing on where he wanted it to go, Harry blew. The spitball hit its mark and Harry quickly took cover behind the head in front of him to conceal him from suspicion. He screwed the pieces of the pencil together, wiping away a little spit when necessary and started writing his lines.

Mr. Van Shee's name wasn't as true to his personality as it could be. The more appropriate name for the instructor was Mr. _Ban_ Shee. The screech he let loose when he pulled a gross paper from his forehead was tasteful.

The teacher launched from his seat and strode beside every set of desks gazing into everyone's eyes. With each new desk he passed a new voice joined in the whispers, and Harry let out a breath when he passed by him.

As predicted, the hawk eyes that adults all seemed to have despite being very limited in their investigation, settled on the paper that was now jammed under Brandon's foot.

"Detention Mr. Brandon." His voice rang through the class.

The protest was quick to come, "Wha- Sir I haven't done anything."

"I'm sure you _haven't._ A criminal will always plead guilty unless there is overwhelming evidence, now get back to work before your detention gets doubled."

"Mr. Van Shee that isn't fair!" Brandon shouted.

" _Nothing_ is ever fair, I will also be informing Jonathan of how you disrespected me and embarrassed me in my own classroom."

"Bu-"

"That's enough. I don't want to hear anymore." His closure was so final that no one seemed to be able to even keep their eyes on the interaction and all spectators returned to their work.

The awkward silence came immediately after and only the sound of pencils scratching on paper could be heard until Mr Van Shee dismissed them.

"Oh and Harry?" He softly demanded Harry's attention while Harry attempted to pass out of the room undetected.

"Yes Sir?"

"I know you're new, but I was told to inform you that it is your turn to help with lunch today. I suggest you head over to the kitchen right away so that Pauline can assign you to something."

"Yes sir." Harry concluded hoping to leave.

"When you leave this room, the kitchen is just to the-"

"I know where the kitchen is Mr. Van Shee." Harry said a bit rudely but wanting him to stop being overly helpful.

"Alright, well I will see you tomorrow." The teacher dismissed him.

Harry didn't bother to reply or make any move to acknowledge that his senior had said something, he simply slammed the door behind him and proceeded to make his way to the kitchen. All the while he giggled, seeing Brandon's face when the door closed while still in the classroom was all too funny.

xXx

Upon entering the kitchen, Harry was greeted by the sweet aroma of melting cheese. Pauline stood by the pristine stove pushed up against the far wall of the kitchen behind the island, her flower dress reaching down to her calves and frilling out. The loud fan was turned on above her bent head, sucking up all the fumes that the hot food produced. She was pouring a bag of milk into a cheesy pot and whisking another with the other hand. Her attention was on the two burners while another was left unsupervised. A wooden spoon lay across the top of the open pot where few bubbles formed a layer of foam, sheltering the pale rubbery elbows submerged in the water.

Content to delay his work, Harry remained standing quietly in the doorframe waiting for Pauline to take notice of him rather than announce his entrance. He didn't have to wait long as when the milk bag had been completely emptied into the pot, the lady turned away from the stove to open the garbage cupboard.

"Oh, Harry, you're here. I didn't see you there." She commented, "I'm just about finished the majority of lunch and the table had already been set."

It seemed all the work had been done, and misunderstanding the woman's words Harry turned to leave. He nearly made an escape, but Pauline had called out to him.

Upon throwing out the bag, she had realized that the garbage can was full.

"I do have something for you to do. I can't leave the food unattended- I don't want the chicken patties to burn before we eat them as sandwiches. Would you be a doll and run this garbage bag out to the garage?"

With a contained grimace, Harry replied, "Of course, I _am_ here to help."  
Harry circled the island to where the elder had motioned that the trash was. He bundled up the top of the bag and tied it shut to prevent any spillage. Using his previous experiences doing the same chore, he pulled the bag out from its spot and heaved it onto his shoulder. Without a second thought he went out the door and circled the house to the garage.

Upon his arrival, he faced the dilemma of having to open the sliding door. With a sigh he dropped the trash he was holding and reached for the handle. Heaving it upwards, Harry sent the heavy door up and out of the way. Instead of carrying the bag to its new home, Harry dragged it across the smooth floor and wrestled it over the edge of the bin.

It seemed luck was not on his side, he nearly fell face first into the bin along with the bag. But had he not neared the smelly gunk, he wouldn't have seen it.

The idea struck him as soon as he saw it; the large strip of cardboard. A bread brown, smooth and crunchy.

What a delicacy that he had found.

His hands found the edges of it and, careful not to get it dirty, he pulled it out.

Harry wouldn't waste this opportunity.

A large shelf to his right held a black tool box which he eagerly abandoned the cardboard for. Inside, Harry found what he was looking for- a pen knife.

Returning to the cardboard, Harry could easily cut palm sized pieces.

The two slices were shoved into the waistband of Harry's pants and he carelessly put the leftovers back in their original place. He threw the lid onto the bins to cover up the stench and left the building, closing the garage door behind him.

The cold of the wind bit into Harry's face as he wobbled around the orphanage's main building up to the door. The wind was strong enough to push him back, but Harry continued forward with new purpose.

He took no note of the inside of the house until he returned to the kitchen.

"I put everything in the garage, do you need anymore help?" He asked Pauline innocently.

"Well, if you wash your hands you can help me place these sandwiches on the dining room table."

"Does it matter where I put them?" he wondered.

"No, just make sure every seat has a plate with a sandwich."

Smiling to himself about how easily he had gained access to his next plan, Harry continued with the charade.

In twos- one in each hand- Harry carried the loaded plates out to the table to place them at each seat. Harry worked from one end while Pauline filled the other end of the table.

The final time they returned to the kitchen, only two plates remained, "How about I take out these plates and you start cleaning up?" Harry offered.

"What a bright idea Harry. Go on then." Pauline none the wise, answered.

He confidently grabbed the two remaining plates and made his way to the centre of the table. Upon placing them, Harry glanced upwards in both directions making sure no one would be watching.

He knew which group of boys regularly sat at the seats at the centre of the table from his previous meal experiences. And he was glad that two of the seats would get the plates in his hands.

Quickly, one by one, he pulled apart the two pieces of bread on the sandwiches and removed the chicken patties. He switched them out for the cardboard strips which filled the bread. A bite into either of these two sandwiches would prove to have a bland taste.

Surely this would cause a fuss amongst two of the boys he disliked.

xXx

"We know it was you Harry."

"What do you mean." Harry asked as he looked up from the text he had been reading while sitting down outside. He had explored after lunch and found a nook in a tree down by a lake where he could sit comfortably.

"We know you did it Harry." Brandon said.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." He said.

"We know you're the one who got Andrew and Brandon whipped, and switched out our chicken for cardboard." spoke Donald quietly from the back.

"And how did you figure that?"

"You arrived here yesterday, every mess we've been in arrived when you did. You're the only explanation." Brandon answered.

"And you're going to pay for it." added Andrew.

It was then Harry understood what was happening. Closing in in front of him were the boys he had humiliated and who had taken the blame for all his pranks. They all wore the same frowns upon their faces, looking down at him.

The ranks of angry boys were doubled up and they outnumbered him greatly. He had no defense for the bigger boys launching an assault on him. In fact, Harry had been confident that after his show of being smarter than all of them, they would let him be.

The risks he had taken since arriving at the orphanage to ensure that they wouldn't hurt him, were all for nothing; he would have to take control of the house through other means.

One of the boys-Andrew, was unbuckling his pants, "I'm going to whip you worse than Jonathan whipped me. You'll be crying for your mommy by the time I'm done with you."

His words seemed to be a sort of signal as two boys closest to Harry on either side leapt into action.

They grabbed him by the wrists, pulled him to his feet and pinned him against the tree. Suddenly, he realized that his book wasn't as great as it seemed. Harry began to struggle, wriggling beneath the kids in an effort to get free.

His struggle was useless, they were too big and too strong for him to physically fight off. The fear started to sink in, nothing was worse than someone who wanted revenge. They maneuvered him-tripping on the roots of the tree a few times- so that his face was pushed up against the tree.

There was a small moment of silence, like the calm before a storm. Then he heard the crack of the belt breaking the sound barrier, and the thump of it digging into his back.

He couldn't feel the pain of it, at least, not until he had fallen and they had crowded him. A rainbow of shoes dug into him as they kicked him and pounded him with their fists. Harry's body curved inwards, taking up the position of a child in the womb. His arms wrapped tight around him, trying to protect himself from the assault.

The toe of someone's foot caught him unaware. It had gotten through the maze of his arms and beneath them his chest had been left unprotected. It clipped him just beneath the ribs in an upward motion poking into his chest cavity.

He was wounded and felt like he couldn't breath.

A green flash went through the air and suddenly there was no one else left raining hits down on him.

Hesitantly looking up he saw the sky and the canopy of leaves. There were no shadows or angry faces.

But the sounds told him otherwise. Someone was splashing through the murky water which blossomed beneath the tree. His eyes met the sight of Donald standing waist deep in the liquid. Harry couldn't for the life of him understand how he had gotten there.

Around him the boys littered the ground in varying states of rising to their feet. It was like they had all been tossed backwards from their circle.

Brandon raced to the water's edge to grip Donald's hand, failing to pull him from the water. Instead the two of them went tumbling back into the blue.

"Oi, help us out!" Brandon's scratchy voice called to the others who were still on land. It pulled them out of their reverie and they rushed over to help. The strength of more kids worked to get Brandon and Donald, one by one, out of the water.

Donald, the first one in the water, stumbled into all the boys when he was removed. They had to catch him to prevent him from tumbling into the ground. Their supporting hands soon turned into restraints when Donald eyes spotted Harry.

"Leave it Donald, he's not worth it."

The defeated words did nothing to calm the boy, he only struggled more.

Thrashing in their arms, Donald was dragged away from Harry towards the house.

"You're a freak! You're a freak Harry!" He called back.

The words echoed in his mind, _freak._

For Years he had been called that.

For Years he had been pushed aside, like a stray dog.

For Years he had been worthless.

For years, he had been angry.

 _You're a freak Harry._


	10. Chapter 10

January 6, 1985

Two months had gone by since Harry had been incorporated into the orphanage. Two months Harry had been dressed in his strict uniform, walking quickly around the building trying to keep with his tight schedule. Two months he'd been subject to Jonathan's brutal keeping and retaliating against the older kids who thought they could hurt him.

The worst beating he had taken from any of them was on his second day at the orphanage. The day he had decided that he would be the one inflicting pain on everyone else. But his pranks had only resulted in the opposite- they beat him till he couldn't breathe. Till he couldn't move out of his own bed without feeling like dying.

He had starved himself the first week. Refusing to move from the comfort of his room and suffer under the stress of his injuries. Someone must have told Jonathan what happened as he came to visit Harry once and saw why he hadn't left his room. But, Harry thought, Jonathan didn't find out that the people who hurt him were living under the same roof as him. Otherwise Harry should have been able to hear them getting into trouble.

 _Unless they just weren't punished,_ Harry vehemently thought, _Jonathan doesn't like anyone in this hell, why would he stand up for me?_

It was true. In reality, when Jonathan had come into his room and saw the marks on Harry, and the sheepish looks on the oldest boys, he _knew_. He just chose to ignore the evidence.

It wasn't until days later when the hunger really won out that Harry ventured down to the kitchen and got something to eat. On his way back he had stopped in the washroom to relieve himself.

The sight that greeted him wasn't pleasant. He had a single black eye only slightly swollen after the week of recovery. The left side of his face was bruised from hairline to chin, and continued down under his shirt. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, the red clashing with the dead green. And his head pounded, the burn vibrating with his heartbeat and sending shivers down his body.

Two months later and majority of his injuries had healed. Only the nastiest of the bruises remained, and even then, they were starting to fade. During the day, Harry could wear the long sleeves and pants of his uniform dutifully unrolled to conceal the marks.

Harry had never felt peace. But sitting in his nook he was at his most calm. He could sit for hours in the tranquility that it provided him, and the time would unknowingly pass by.

In his spot, he could forget the misgivings the gang of boys had poured into him, and lose the pain. The roots of the tree which he sat on were curved perfectly to cradle his body, and his feet just reached the edge of the grass.

Harry was brought out of his reverie by the sound of his stomach gurgling. Looking down at his watch, the battered display showed that it was just past 12 o'clock. Lunch time.

Closing his ratty book that he had obtained from the library, Harry rose to his feet. He patted down his pockets and checked all around him to be certain that he had all his belongings, then started off.

Making his way around the big old tree Harry dusted off small particles of snow which had gathered on his clothes. The winter's bite wasn't as cold as it normally was, so it wasn't necessary to wear a winter jacket, and the ice on the water glittered in the sun, which could be blinding. But the beautiful scene experienced as a whole was beautiful.

The trek back to the building was slightly irritating. At certain points the snow was deep enough that it overflowed into Harry's shoes and flooded his toes with ice.

Stepping up onto the back deck, he was thankful to be able to stomp his shoes on a hard flat surface and shake the snow off his soles. The loose snow fell down and littered the deck in small clumps which Harry pushed over the ledge to land on the ground.

Pulling open the door Harry stepped inside and untied the laces. One by one he pulled the soaking shoes off his socked feet and held them by his fingers in one hand.

Silently padding his socked feet across the floor, he attempted to go unnoticed on his journey. The building seemed eerily silent to Harry, in all his time being there, it had hardly ever been quiet.

Looking over his shoulder he realized that his socks were damp and had been leaving a trail of small feet behind him. Hopefully, it would dry before anyone saw them.

The wet footsteps trailed around the empty corridor and towards the stairs. On each stair a single print was laid as he journeyed upwards.

He reached his room and sighed as he heard the doorbell ring through the building. A new family was on their way today in order to adopt a child. Which meant another day of pretending to be the perfect child to get picked by them and have a _home._

Knowing he had some time to spare before he had to meet the new couple, Harry grabbed a clean set of his uniform and ducked through the hall into the washroom.

Under the floor beneath his feet, Harry knew that Jonathan would be greeting the people at the door before welcoming them into the orphanage. The process was always the same, the guardian would lead the strangers into a room off to the side, with comfy chairs and a coffee table with tea and biscuits- a room strictly off limits to Harry and the other children. Then they would laugh about something, get to know one another, and then it would get serious.

Harry had, out of curiosity, listened in once on Jonathan's important and comical lecture. It was always the same, the brute man would tell the soon to be parents about how to care for a child and what the law required them to do. As well as warn them to give the child their love. To the people, it would show that Jonathan actually cared about the wellbeing of his wards and that he wanted to find the _perfect home_ for a child and not the _perfect child_ for the home.

Harry suspected that wasn't true. Harry suspected that as much as Jonathan wanted to be rid of the children, he only wanted the best behaved children to go so as to give the orphanage a good reputation.

The tap in the bath tub sprayed cold water and Harry hastily turned it up a notch. He peeled his wet socks from his feet and doused them in the water and hung them off the edge to dry. Next into the water was his own feet. One by one they stepped into the warmth of the moving water.

To his left was a bar of soap, which Harry grabbed and rubbed it to a lather. He cleaned his feet and scrubbed them till they were raw and shut the tap off. Grabbing a towel he stripped the droplets of water from his body and absorbed them into the towel. Climbing out of the tub was the same as climbing in; one foot out followed by the other.

His bare feet snuggled comfortably into the soft mat just outside the tub, and he dropped the lid before sitting back onto the toilet. The cold of the metal seeped only slightly through the back of his pants. His right foot lifted across his knee as he grabbed his foot to pull on a sock, he saw that his feet were beet red from the temperature of the water.

Knowing his toes were under a protective casing of cotton, he stripped down to his boxers and folded the muddy clothes. The clean uniform slid easily along his body as he pulled each part on. The pile at his feet, he didn't bother to fold, instead throwing them into a half full hamper of dirty laundry. He wasn't scared he'd lose track of _his_ uniform in the wash, all the students labelled their clothing with perfectly hemmed bold print.

His hair was the next to get freshened up. He pulled a comb through the untamable mop ridding it of any knots or tangles, and in the process causing it to frizz even more. _Whatever_ , it would never appeal to anyone's tastes, but it was much more appealing to Harry's if the puff fell over his eyes and shielded him from the world.

Content with his work to make himself presentable, he smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt and turned the doorknob. The hallway seemed deserted with all the children playing downstairs hoping to take the attention of their guests. He walked quietly and close to the wall, dragging his hand playfully as he walked. Each time he passed a door, his arm would bend while touching the frame and extend when reaching for the door. Each foot twirled outwards and in, like a dance in motion.

The stairs loomed ahead of him, darkened in shadow but advertising a bright future as the bottom was glowing in light from the window. His feet thumped as he stepped down, hand holding the rail.

Turning around the bottom, he found the door to Jonathan's office slightly opened, giving him the first glance of the visitors, but only the backs of their heads. The man had his arm reaching out, holding onto his wife's hand and carefully displaying the glinting wedding ring. His hair was a luscious brown rich with life and waved down below his ears. And his shoulders were broad, used to hard work and physical activity.

The women was the opposite, her petite body extended long legs across the carpeted floor, feet enclosed in a pair of black leather boots. The blonde hair fell cascading down her back, only the top being in a ponytail. Her pink shirt fitted her perfectly, falling smoothly over her shoulders.

Although they couldn't see him from where they sat, Jonathan could and he hurriedly motioned for Harry to go. The manager's motion gave Harry away, and the couple turned their heads to see the distraction. Harry couldn't move fast enough to prevent them from seeing him, but he was certain they didn't see his face. They, like all the other families wouldn't want Harry, they would take home some other child. As he scrambled away, he heard the door shut softly, Jonathan wouldn't slam any doors or use all his strength in the presence of adopters.

Finding himself in the room of children attempting to look perfect he found himself a dark corner, waiting for this waste of time to be over.

He didn't have to wait long before the newcomers appeared in the doorway, searching through the inhabitants of the room. As they approached a kid opposite to him, Harry took that as an opportunity to leave, they'd already singled someone out who'd obviously go home with them, so he shouldn't need to stay.

As he reached the door he heard a deep voice behind him, "Hey buddy, wait up. Where you going?" Knowing it wasn't for him as no one wanted him, he continued walking.

It wasn't till he reached the front door, ready to change into some outdoor shoes that he felt a hand on his shoulder. Although big, it was surprisingly soft and turned him with an immeasurable amount of care.

The broad man who had been in Jonathan's office was in front of him, bending down so that he crouched eye level with Harry, "Hey, I asked where you going? I'm Joe."

To say Harry was startled would be an understatement, no one had ever sought him out, "I was just going outside."

His shoes squeaked as he rose to his full height and reached over him to get the door, "Mind if I tag along? I think this place is getting a bit too stuffy for me."

Side by side they walked out and onto the yellow grass uncovered by having the snow pushed aside, the mud didn't seem to bother Joe. "Did you want to play ball with me?" It was only then Harry noticed the midget football in his hands.

They hadn't been throwing the ball back and forth long before Joe spoke again, "What's your name?"

Finding no reason not to answer the nice man, Harry did, "I'm Harry, sir. What're you doing out here with me? Shouldn't you be inside with the others?"

"Probably, but I'd rather be outside having a good game- I like sports you see, do you?"

Although Harry didn't, he couldn't understand why he nodded his head yes. Perhaps the man was too nice that Harry couldn't help but but agree with him.

The day faded away, the two of them laughing away in the cool breeze having a good time. "Did you want to go inside and talk with my wife? I think she'd like to get to know you?"

Harry knew where this was going, the glow he felt was building up inside him. For the first time in a long while he felt hope that he would escape the hell of an orphanage.

He followed Joe into the building where they met up with his wife, in the hallway he noticed another kid glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. She was already waiting inside the office which Jonathan had led them into beforehand. When they entered she was moving away from the window, having been watching them interact outside.

"Harry meet my wife Joanne." Joe crossed the threshold to reach his wife and give her a quick peck on the lips. The two of them sat together where Harry had caught his first glimpse of them and Harry took over Jonathan's lonely seat.

"If it's alright with you Harry, I was wondering if you'd like to come and live with Joanne and I? What do you say?" Joe whispered to him, prodding at him through the silence.

Harry let a grin slide across his face and that was all it took for Joe to throw the ball back at him. But it wasn't planned and the shot was poorly aimed, instead of travelling towards Harry's hands it flew towards his side. Just behind him on the right stood a looming bookshelf filled with fine china that Jonathan had collected. Although strict, the grown man had a passion for the glass and silverware.

After staying at the orphanage for some time, Harry had been so attuned to things that might grant him a punishment, and this was one of them. Without thinking of the fact that he was about to go home with a new family, he felt fear.

The panic was consuming him quickly the farther the ball travelled. Ready to duck out of the room and escape jonathan's wrath, the ball stopped. It hovered mid air directly in front of the breakables, close enough that it could almost tap them.

As quickly as the disaster had been avoided, a new one came to life as the ball dropped to the floor. Turning to the couple, Harry saw their eyes were glued to where the ball had been floating and lowered to it on the ground.

Two words tumbled out of Harry's mouth, which he had said countless times in the house of his aunt and uncle, "I'm sorry."

His words snapped them out of their reverie to lift their gazes to him. Their eyes showed him the one thing he hated most but had seen countless times before.

Too many times he had seen his aunt and uncle glance at him like that and cast him aside as an outsider. They flapped their mouths open and close, trying and reaching for words that would stick in their head.

Joanne was the first to recover, "No, _I'm sorry."_ She started, "I think it would be best if perhaps we looked around more to see if we'd rather take home someone better for us." _I think it would be best if we don't associate with you._

"That would be for the best, it's not that we don't want you, it's that Jonathan cautioned us to make sure we find the perfect kid to fit our home." _We just don't want you._

Their faces countered their words and showed him their true meaning. People always feared what they didn't understand. The crack in his heart spread wider every second as the pain of their rejection thrived inside him.

"Why don't you go find something to do while we look around?" _Why don't you leave because nobody wants you?_

Harry moved past them, walking slowly in an attempt to not embarrass himself by running crying out of the room. No matter how hard he tried to prevent it, his eyes burned as they filled with liquid, but he refused to let any tears trail down his face.

When he stepped out the door, he spun to look at them one more time. The window caught their heads and glowed like a halo on an angel. The lovely angels had almost rescued him from the fiery depths of hell the orphanage resembled. They were so close to taking him away, but still so far away.

Before Harry's own eyes, the beautiful angels began to morph. Their skin bubbled and stretch across their body, faces growing both pointier and rounder. They both grew in their own shoes slightly and the clothes changed with them.

Standing in front of him were the Angels reincarnated as Harry's own personal demons. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wrapped their arms around one another in the sketchy relationship they'd always had. They glowered down at Harry, beedie eyes hastily seeking him out.

"It was nice to meet you Harry, maybe we'll see you around." Uncle Vernon's lips didn't form around the words, instead shaping out new ones, "You're a terrible child, for my own sake, I hope we never meet again."

"Although it might not be us, there's someone out there who will welcome you into their house." From his aunt became, "We don't love you and no one else will."

As the door slowly closed to hide his old family, Harry imagined his aunt and uncle were laughing at the pain they had caused all in that day.

When it clicked shut, Harry bolted. His small legs took the stairs two at a time trampling the uneven blocks heavily. Another kid stood along the railing, and Harry hastily shoved him out of the way, wanting to escape.

He stumbled through the hallway, wishing no one would interrupt him as he went. Someone must've heard his prayers as not a soul existed in the endless corridor.

Harry burst through the solid wood into his room, door slamming into the wall behind. As quickly as he had opened it, he pulled it shut and braced both hands against the brown pattern.

His eyes burned and his chest fell as he slowly exhaled shaky breaths then leant his forehead to the cool surface. One by one he let the tears fall, letting himself feel all of the pain anyone had ever made him feel. The pain shattered his cracked heart and turned it to stone. The pain of his falling tears turned to hate.

His hate was accompanied by his anger. A fiery beast which roared inside him at the idea of anyone causing Harry harm.

A shuddering feeling resounded through his small room and a crackling met his ears. Opening his eyes from the leaking tears, Harry turned around.

His large dresser stood quaking on the floor, encompassed in a blazing flame. It created a calming trance on Harry, the fire raged on in time with his own rage.

 **Hey guys, long time no see. So I no longer have an prepared chapters, so updates will become more spaced. Thanks for understanding!**


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